Moonwalking - Discovering Britain by Full Moon

A new year. A new start. A final goodbye.

2010-01-14T12:37:00.000Z

Today is the first new moon of 2010. You can’t see it: it’s a new moon. But I sensed it (after looking at my lunar calendar). The new moon signifies the restart of the lunar cycle. But this new moon, for me, signifies the end of Moonwalking 2009. Not the end of my relationship with the moon, oh no no no. But the end of this blog, and the diary of my year of lunar living.

As our American cousins might say, I had a blast.

The original purpose of taking a year to moonwalk around Britain was to throw myself into an adventure – in which I’d learn lots, meet loads of new and interesting people, and, I hoped, get over a slightly messy break-up. I also had this crazy idea that if I told enough people it would become a book, it might become a book. After all, I have spent the last 10 years of my life reading travel literature, loving Bill Bryson and Charlie Connelly, dissecting Geoff Dyer and Roger Deakin, studying language in south-west London, America and Cornwall. And generally falling for the idea of spending my one attempt at life travelling, learning and writing.

As yet, it’s not a book. But in October last year, the project attracted an agent. And even after three hours of chatting with this agent, I still couldn’t put her off me. So I gained that agent.

Anyway, you know all this. And if you don’t, it’s all documented in this blog, which I assume will sort of linger on the internet forever.

Last year became the most exciting, most demanding, most exhausting, toughest, most exhilarating year of my life.

But it would’ve been nothing without the people I met during the year. And the people who supported the idea. And those who told me their stories, who taught me about Luna, who walked me miles and miles and miles, who put me up in their homes, who cooked for me, who said such nice things and wished me so well. So many people. Time and time again.

So, here goes. This list is in no way complete. It’s a stab at trying to thank as many people as I can for helping in ways that only selflessness and kindness can produce. (For all the rubbish things that happen around the world, there are still many good people on this planet.)

Firstly, thank you to everyone who read the blog, still reads the blog, who commented on blog posts, who emailed me and followed me on Twitter and sent such lovely messages to me.

Then, hugely sincere thanks to,

Mum, Dad, my two bigger brothers, Natalie, Susannah M, Debbie the lovely white witch, Dan O, Jan Dooner, Sam C, Matt and Sarah, Christophe Philipps, Dr Das Baskill, Colin S, Sir Patrick Moore, Steve Owens and the IYA, Charlie C, Steve and Pat F, David Phillips, lovely Maia, Mark L-E, Miles the Beard, Frea L, Kate W, David B, Head Moon (Rosie), Victoria F, Candy S, Carly, Pete the Mapless and John the Foot-Compass, Barb, Katy C, John Girvan, John Harris, Ben the drunken Highlander, Harry C, Agent Susan, Louis S, Tavi G, Rob K, Dorothy, Roz D, Doe D, everybody who contributed to www.bluemoonwalk.org, Colin the pen man, Tangle Goblinwand and Abbey, Brian F, Aluna Laura, Penny S, Christina, Hayley S,

& many many more,

& Luna.

Sorry to anybody I’ve missed out but to all I met, and to all who offered support, I’m forever grateful. You made my year.

(photo by Maia)

But do not fear (I doubt you were going to):

@waxingmoonman will continue tweeting on Twitter
I’m still writing stuff – about 2010 (a year of big change) and how she develops (www.rob-writes.blogspot.com)
And since the end of last year I’ve had an idea crashing around my head for my next adventure – which, I hope, will take me into a new world.

One clue.

You’ll have heard of them. You’ll have wondered about them. But you’ll never have been mad enough to track them down…

I'm a moonwalker, not a terrorist

2010-01-04T17:02:00.001Z

This isn't an excerpt from the book. I'm not really allowed to give any of that away (main reason: there is no book). But this is a story from my bluemoonwalk last Thursday. There's a lesson here: it's how not to ask a policewoman for directions.

I stood below Big Ben, chatting to Dr Darren Baskill: a man I’d never met before, but a man who insisted I call him Das. We talked about how his emails had helped me through my year and how his photos from the evening were so much better than mine. He’d photographed a clear, crisp partial lunar eclipse above the clock tower ("Big Bill" as he decided to name it); I’d been stopped by police on the Embankment so got a slightly blurry, slightly hurried eclipse above the Thames. It looked more like a dodgy lightbulb photographed by a drunk horse.

As Das disappeared into the crowds (over 200,000 revellers, I heard the next day on the news), I headed the other direction, towards Birdcage Walk. It seemed westerly and the right direction for Hyde Park, home to my next lunar investigation of the night. The moon hung behind me, to the east. And everybody else in London was walking past me, to the river, to the east. Must be this way, I thought. But then I’m hopeless with directions. So a few feet from Big Bill I whipped out my A-to-Z. I’m even worse with maps.

A policewoman sidled over and stood beside me.

Now, I knew I hadn’t killed anyone tonight. I was confident of that. But I did have a rather large bag over my shoulder. And I’d been walking around London for the last five hours taking photos of the city’s most famous landmarks, while checking my watch and looking skywards every few minutes. And I’d just stopped talking to a man with a super-duper camera, who, for hours, had been taking close-up shots of Big Ben. But did that really make me look suspicious?

Now I was consulting a map, and on that map I’d highlighted lots more terrorist sites. I’d highlighted each with a big circle, and arrows, and the occasional skull-and-crossbones (you mean you’ve never done that?).

OK, yes, I looked very suspicious.

So I was pleasantly surprised when the policewoman apologised for standing so close.

“Sorry, have I-”

“No, no,” she said. “Sorry. It must look- I just- Are you OK? You look lost.”

Ha! Me? Lost? Me, a man who’s just spent a year walking around Britain. At night! Me? The moonwalker? Moonman?

“Yes, I am actually. Is that west?” I replied.

“Where are you trying to get to?”

So I explained that I’d spent the evening walking between 13 lunar sites in the capital and now I needed to find Hyde Park, because it’s where 15,000 women walk half-naked once a year.

Now I looked and sounded suspicious. A perverted astronomer.

But she continued without a blink, as though that was one of the more sane stories she’d heard tonight. And instead of arresting me there and then, which – I admit – may have been wise, and would’ve become my best New Year story ever, she took a map from her pocket. “New Year Celebrations Map.”

A drunk man dressed as a horse cantered by and wished us Happy New Year. I expect he was off to photograph the eclipse.

“There’s Canary Wharf,” she said, pointing to the Isle of Dogs. “And there’s London Bridge. Oh, and there’s the London Eye.”

“Ah yes. I’ve been taking photos of those all day. London has so many great targets. Not ‘targets’, sites of national interest. Not like that. You know, nice places to visit. If you have no interest in terrorism or…”

She just stared at me. And smiled. “Go down Victoria Street.” She followed the route with her finger. “Through Westminster. Turn right there.”

“But that’s completely the wrong way. Sorry. I mean, you’re right because you’re the police, but I think you’re completely wrong. You trying to give me a bum steer? Sorry, bottom steer.”

Not once during the whole evening did I witness an angry member of the police force. Full moon. New Year. Testosterone bashing into alcohol. And not a belligerent copper in sight. Just very pleasant ones who were as bad at reading maps as I am, and who shook the hooves of passing pantomime horses.

“How about Birdcage Walk?” I asked.

“Oh yeah.” The young lady’s eyes lit up. “That’s a much better idea. I only said Victoria Street because I walked up it earlier.” She paused. “Though I’m sure there was something else about that Bird walk you mentioned…”

With reasoning like that, I decided it was time to stop asking her advice and head on to the Winter Wonderland of Hyde Park, where I wanted to meet a singing moose from Germany. So I thanked my police friend (deciding against asking if I could take her photo), passed two men dressed as cows, and departed.

As I reached Birdcage Walk, I discovered the “something else”. The thing that would stop me from taking the nice, quick, direct walk to my moose, and instead push me into another mile-long detour on dodgy knees, through sub-zero temperatures...

Blue Moon Above London - the final moonwalk of 2009

2010-01-01T16:05:00.002Z

Snow. Floods. Friends. Astronomers. Eclipse. Goddess. Brother. 42 floors. Police. The Queen. Luna. Clouds. Wharf. Harriot. Isis. Full moon. Wheel. Aches. Fireworks. Time. Reflections. Reflection...

For the first time on this blog, I'm not sure I have the words to summarise a moonwalk. Not this moonwalk. Not the bluemoonwalk.

So here are my favourite photos from a night on the town. London Town. A night spent watching a bright full moon, surrounded by a shivering halo, which followed a day worrying that I'd see no blue moon, I'd have no stories to tell, and my year would end with a cloudy whimper.

In the next couple of days, I'll tell more. I'll explain what happened when I strolled through the grounds of Syon House Gardens. Without permission. I'll tell you about my brother's moon-hunt 42 storeys above London. I'll tell you how the police helped me watch a partial lunar eclipse above the Thames. And I'll reveal what I've learned in this fantastic year of living a lunar life.

Until then...

Syon House, Richmond - where Thomas Harriot became the first man to sketch the moon using a telescope in 1609

The Meridian Laser across London

Blue moon over Greenwich

Lunatic under blue moon eclipse

Eclipse above the Thames

Luna looks on

Big Ben, little blue moon

This Is It...

2009-12-30T16:52:00.002Z

Oh wait, MJ used that one.

"Moonwalker's Final Walk"?

He probably used that too.

OK, so it now seems like I'm trying to cash in on poor Michael Jackson, whose face changed with the phases of the moon. But I'm not. Honestly, Moonwalking has never been about Michael. It will be a little bit about him tomorrow, when I search for the spot where thousands of MJ fans gathered for a mass moonwalk soon after his death. But other than that, this year has been about Luna. Our constant companion.

Tomorrow, my legs take me on my final Moonwalk of 2009. After tomorrow, I drop the capital 'M' and moonwalking returns to being a hobby. A fine, peaceful hobby. One that doesn't require batteries. One that doesn't break every few minutes. Though one that is sometimes hampered by clouds.

New Year's Eve promises to be one of those evenings - when we stand below the dark sky, which is clogged with heavy clouds, and we wonder how our lunar friend is feeling, so distant, so far removed from the celebrations on Earth.

But wait.

Something magical has happened over the last few days. The world, Earth, humans, people over 200,000 miles from the moon, everybody has noticed what's happening tomorrow night.

The blue moon is coming and thousands of us, around the globe, will be looking up.

The International Year of Astronomy is involved.
Askyfullofstars has embraced it.
In fact, over 688 newspapers and websites from around the world have picked up on it.

It's breaking news! It's breaking news that I broke a year ago today, but I'm so chuffed that Earth is involved.

I'm spending all day tomorrow Moonwalking. From Syon House, the site of Thomas Harriot's lunar sketches, to New Year fireworks above the Millennium Wheel (consider Arianhrod, the Celtic moon goddess, or "silver wheel"), I'm crossing London.

Yesterday, I learned how much of the City will be closed for celebrations. Which is a pain.

But surely it can't be as painful as walking 26 miles in a bra. Or climbing fells in pouring rain. Or crawling through sludge while smuggling brandy. Or being spat at by drunken Highlanders. (Have a read; it's all in this blog!)

The bluemoonwalk is coming. It's tomorrow. It's free. And you can do anything you like - walk anywhere you like (unless you're in London). To the beach, to the moors, to the mountains, to the lake.

This is the first blue moon on New Year's Eve for almost 20 years. It's rare. Very rare.

Time to get get involved.

See you on the other side!

HAPPY LUNA YEAR TO YOU ALL!

City of the Moon

2009-12-27T12:44:00.000Z

As my final moonwalk of 2009 approaches, I'm locked away in my study planning for the big night. New Year's Eve. The bluemoonwalk. And where will moonwalk number 13 take me? Why, back to London of course. Where this adventure began all those months ago.

Charged with energy (and full moon juice) after my fantastic moonraking adventure in Wiltshire earlier this month, I began to research London's lunar links. I knew the Royal Observatory connection, because of my first trek from Greenwich to Waltham Abbey along the Meridian in January. I knew the Thames could be interesting - it being a moon-pulled, tidal river and gateway to England's capital.

But how was I to know London could harbour so many lunar treats? Honestly, it's quite unbelievable.

Without giving too much away, here's what I'm hunting for on New Year's Eve, for the blue moon of 2009.

The Temple of Diana, Roman moon goddess. The Temple of Isis, Egyptian moon goddess. The mass MJ moonwalk of 2009. The London MoonWalk. Moonrise from Canary Wharf. A lunar Millennium marker. A terrifying London landmark. And much, much more.

Many, many miles, all in one night. Among friends and strangers. I just hope the clouds part and Lady Luna smiles upon us all.

As Big Ben strikes midnight, and the country celebrates the arrival of a new decade, I'll be celebrating the end of a capital adventure, the end of an astronomically successful year. And the beginning of a year that has gigantic shoes to fill. I think I'm up for the challenge.

(Oh, and I'm now the proud owner of the moon. Well, an acre of it. I'll tell you more after my birthday...)

Moon Man in the USA...sort of

2009-12-23T20:08:00.001Z

Night-Time London Under Snow

As the year creeps through slushy snow to its conclusion, and Moonwalking (the year-long adventure) prepares to hang up its tatty, battered boots (bear with me here), I seem busier than ever. Busy planning. Busy planning a memorable finale to my year. And, as my little project has helped create, a finale to the International Year of Astronomy.

Last night, I appeared on Astronomy FM with two lovely people I met through Twitter. Tavi and Rob, who run an amateur astronomy website (a website about amateur astronomy, not an amateur website about astronomy) called A Sky Full of Stars invited me onto their radio show. One problem - they're in America, in North Carolina. And I'm not. But why should we let a few tens of thousands of miles ruin the fun? we thought.

At 1am this morning (GMT), 8pm on the east coast of America, the world became a smaller place. Just for an hour. But what a fun hour it would turn out to be - full of stories, questions, technical challenges and moon union (moonion?).

By 9pm, I was tired. By 11pm, after a day of editing the same sentence a few hundred times for my day job, I was shattered. By midnight, I was asleep. But thankfully by 1am, I was full of life - or, more accurately, full of tea. And an odd concoction that the pharmacy promised would unbung a blocked ear that, for the last week, has been causing me to say "Uh?" far more often than usual.

So with a mute ear, an echoey laptop, a pair of rather cheap earphones and another cup of tea to my side, I connected with Tavi and Rob over Skype. I then entered an interactive presentation room with lots of attendees who wanted to learn more about moonwalking and, more specifically, this New Year's bluemoonwalk.

After an hour, success! The ear had begun to unblock. Oh, and the show ("Moonwalking with Rob Self-Pierson"), was building to a climax. We showed videos and photos and talked lunar gardening and lunar fishing and horror and lunacy and violence and bras. We shared stories. We reminisced about times we'd found the moon shining down upon us, sparking memories in our minds, warmth in our hearts.

And I realised what I've done. What I've achieved.

I've made it. I've survived a year of challenges and come out of it with a big smile. Each photo that glided through the slideshow reminded me of the people I've met - the paranormal investigators, the drunk Highlander, the pen enthusiasts, the pencil enthusiasts, the hikers, the lunar gardener, the moonrakers, the astronomers, the mediums. And reminded me of the stories - about the mythical waterhorses, the Roman legion, the Devil, lunar harvesting, smuggling, bombing, warring. And highlighted those connections to the moon that are still such an important part of our lives today, even if we don't realise.

This time last year I was boning up on EB White and lunar phases and the biological tides theory. Since then, I've crossed Great Britain by the light of the full moon to make the human connections and discover a side of life that's usually kept quiet. Night life. Moon life.

It's been fantastic. Thank you to Tavi and Rob for helping me to relive some of those memories.

Merry Christmas and Lunar Blessings to you all.

10% over North Carolina, USA

2009-12-20T17:07:00.000Z

Many thanks to Tavi Greiner from these beautiful photos of the crescent moon over the Shallotte River Inlet, southeast coastal North Carolina.

The blue moon is a mere baby in these photos - just three days, ten hours and 43 minutes old!

Moon and Jupiter - Shallotte River Inlet, North Carolina (photo by Tavi Greiner)

10% Waxing Crescent (photo by Tavi Greiner)

The Road to the Blue Moon will move to www.bluemoonwalk.org tomorrow, with a fancy new gallery (if I can work out how to install it!)

9% and waxing...

2009-12-19T18:03:00.001Z

My attempts at catching a falling moon at sunset:

Moon Over My Neighbour's House, Waltham Abbey, 19.12.09

Upside Down - the 40x Telescope View, 19.12.09

Off to Sleep, 19.12.09

6% crescent and growing!

2009-12-19T15:48:00.000Z

Here are two more fine shots in the build-up to the bluemoonwalk this New Year's Eve.

Wherever you are, however good your camera, take a snap and send it on! And see your photo published on the blog. Please email any moon photos from the next fortnight to rsp[at]robertselfpierson.co.uk

Saratoga, New York (photos by Louis Suarato 18.12.09)

The Road to the Blue Moon (Thanks, Louis!)

2009-12-18T15:05:00.000Z

Somebody has had a wonderful idea. His name is Louis Suarato. He lives across the pond on the east coast of America. And he’s a bit of a star when it comes to photographing the moon.

Louis – along with several other Stateside moonwalkers and moongazers I’ve e-bumped into (on Twitter, blogs, websites) this year – has come on board for the New Year's Eve moonwalking extravaganza: the bluemoonwalk. Mr Suarato, in a moment of inspiration, thinking far more clearly than I’ve thought for a while, suggested a pictorial build-up to the blue moon on 31.12.09

He then emailed me this:

Helderberg Mountains, New York (photo by Louis Suarato 17.12.09)

Shivering outside on the porch of the 13th storey of his office block, Louis captured this stunning 2%-lit waxing crescent moon heading for the Helderberg Mountains in Albany, New York, as it retired for the night.

Louis has set the challenge – photograph the moon as she grows towards full on the last day of the year (or early January if you’re very east on the globe – Australia, Japan and surrounds). The moon is up for grabs. Rather than firing rockets into her surface or leaving enormous footprints in her dust, let’s be nice and take some photos.

It’s easy. Look out for the moon, find your camera, take a picture, and email it to me at rsp[at]robertselfpierson.co.uk. I’ll post the best entries on the blog and put a new slideshow on www.bluemoonwalk.org

Up for the challenge?

Thanks, Louis!

Bluemoonwalk – time to get involved!
Website www.bluemoonwalk.org
Blog post
Promo video
IYA website
Twitter hashtag #bluemoonwalk

bluemoonwalk 09 - Time to Get Involved!

2009-12-16T12:02:00.000Z

A year ago, I chose to do something. Something that seemed a bit wacky but would a) take my mind off a certain relationship breakdown b) prove wrong the mean email from tarot.com, and c) send me travelling around the country with a pen and paper and camera, like I’d always dreamed.

Innocent. Naïve. Not sure why the moon sometimes looked round and sometimes looked crescent. A bit scared of the dark.

Yep, I had all the credentials to travel around Great Britain by the light of the full moon in order to discover what our lunar friend means to us in 2009.

Well, I’ve survived. Twelve moonwalks. And you lovely people out there, across the internet, across the globe, have been with me every step of the way. Time to relax.

Oh wait. No. It’s not quite over yet. There’s one last moonwalk. And it just happens to be a blue moon. Falling on the last day of the year. It promises to be something special.

It’s time for you to get involved.

Please visit www.bluemoonwalk.org

Please see the photos, read the info, watch the video again. Please smile and shake your head and marvel that I survived the year. Please, after initially thinking No way am I stepping outside on New Year’s Eve, think again. Think Yes. Think Yes, that’d make a nice change. That’d stop me having to watch recordings of minor celebrities doing silly things until midnight. Think That’d make a better story when I go back to work and people say, "Do anything different this New Year’s Eve?"

"Actually, yes. I walked around Ugglebarnby by the light of the full moon to see if I could find any werewolves. It was the most beautiful, peaceful, overwhelming experience. You?"

"I watched Ainsley Harriott deep-fry an egg."

Stories
Be published at www.bluemoonwalk.org Donate your story and see it live on the website in the New Year

Photos
Email me your photos and I’ll publish them on the bluemoonwalk.org gallery (and credit you of course!)

Twitter
On the night of the blue moon, you can get involved with live bluemoonwalks by adding #bluemoonwalk to your tweets. These will then appear on bluemoonwalk.org and if you search for #bluemoonwalk in trends! We may struggle to overtake other New Year trends like "I’m drunk" and "Next Year I will" but let's see what we can do.

Support
This isn’t just about me. It’s mainly about the moon – but moonwalking has also gained some big support. Steve Owens from the International Year of Astronomy is behind the bluemoonwalk. As is Marek Kukula from the Royal Observatory, Greenwich. Plus, the wonderful new lunar venture www.alunatime.org has embraced the idea!

So please get involved. If you’re lucky enough to see the second full moon of December 2009, go outside and celebrate!

Today, as I post this entry, it's new moon - she's 0% lit.

So let the countdown begin…

Keep looking up!

2009-12-14T21:15:00.001Z

The International Year of Astronomy (which, I must be honest, through sheer fluke (or fate perhaps?) tied in with my year of moonwalking around Britain) is coming to an end. But not without some exceptional astronomical treats. This weekend, I spent two shivering nights craning my neck, crushing some vertebrae and looking up. Twitter led me to the Geminid meteor shower and the sky didn’t disappoint.

By the time my face lost all feeling, I’d spotted over ten shooting stars firing across the night sky. By late Sunday night, I’d also managed to drag Mum outside. Together we watched a couple of sparklers crashing into our atmosphere (Earth’s atmosphere; there was no atmosphere between me and Mum). Wondrous. fizzling. Florescent green.

And the treats continue.

Blue moon this New Year’s Eve isn’t just special because it’s the 13th full moon of the year. Or because it falls on the last day of the 400th anniversary of Galileo’s and Thomas Harriot’s first moon sketches using a telescope (and pencil-type instrument, I’d guess). Or because it falls on the last day of the 40th anniversary of Man’s first moon-bounce.

Or, for me, because it falls three days after my birthday, and in the middle of my zodiac sign.

But this blue moon you’ll also witness another lunar spectacle. An eclipse. Well, you might.

Across parts of Asia, Australia, Europe and Africa, the complete partial lunar eclipse will be visible. Let me make that clearer. On 31st December 2009, Earth will pass between the sun and the moon, and our shadow – some of it at least (the 'penumbra'), plus a fingernail of 'umbra' – will appear on the lunar surface. For years I’ve taken this sort of thing for granted and stayed indoors. Not now. That’s amazing! It’s the astronomical equivalent of throwing a dart, spearing a fly, and hitting bullseye (all using the dart I should add).

So once again, skies permitting, you’ll find me wandering the streets by moonlight and occasionally stopping, staring and grinning. You’ll know it’s me because others will be pointing and whispering. And I'll be the one with the dart and the flies.

Whether I’ll see this slight dimming of Luna, I’m not sure. Scientists don’t like my chances (“unlikely to see with the naked eye”). But I’ll certainly look out for it. You never know. It’s possible (come on, let’s be positive) that at around 7.23pm (GMT) a slice of the southern limb of our distant neighbour will fade.

Then she’ll return to fullness and welcome us all into the next decade. 2010 – officially the Year After the International Year of Astronomy.

Come back Wednesday for your chance to get involved in moonwalking on blue moon 2009...

Moonrise over South Wales

2009-12-11T21:01:00.001Z

Moonrise on 7th June 2009 - Pendine, South Wales (UK)

Once in a...

2009-12-10T11:19:00.001Z

I'm working on something.

Something big.

Something to ensure 2009 - the International Year of Astronomy - goes out with a bang.

Something for all of those lovely people around the world who've supported me this year, encouraged me, written to me, helped and offered help and sent me videos and pictures and stories and poems. Those people from Australia, New York, Seattle, India, France, Switzerland, Nigeria, Scotland, Bognor. An end-of-year treat to get people involved in the joy that is moonwalking.

Next Wednesday, at midday (GMT), you won't see our moon. She'll remain 0% full as she passes in front of the sun. New moon. The start of a countdown. The countdown to full moon.

The countdown to blue moon.

New Year's Eve 2009 is a blue moon. Blue moon by its modern definition is the second full moon in a calendar month. We get one every 2.7 years. Not very rare?

How about a blue moon on the last day of the year? The last day of an international celebration of the universe? The last day of the first decade of a new millennium? It's my final moonwalk in a year of discovering Britain by full moon. It's time to share. Time to encourage.

Time to see the world in a different light.

Next Wednesday I'll reveal more...

Moonfest. Genius.

2009-12-07T14:57:00.000Z

The moon and graffiti. Uh?

Yep - there's a connection. And it made me laugh out loud.

On Thursday, John Girvan (Devizes historian and blacksmith) wanted to show me something. This thing had made the whole of his town furious. It'd sparked debates, forced the police into action. The antics of one very clever group provoked a small Wiltshire town into uniting against disrespectful behaviour and some environmentally-friendly criminal damage...

The rock festival Moonfest took place in Westbury, Wiltshire, at the end of August. It was a huge success. And a special form of advertising must be thanked for making Moonfest the sellout that it was...

Clean graffiti.

Instead of using posters, the organisers of the event used giant stencils and jets of recycled rainwater to clean promotional messages into buildings in the area. One of these still appears on the old canal bridge near John's Canal Forge. He walked me up to the bridge and explained what'd happened - with a grin on his face.

"You won't believe it. They had us all. Cheeky things'd used giant templates and cleaned uff th' muck frum th' surfaces of our canal bridge and uff our beloved Grade II listed Bear Hotel by the market place. Whole town was furious. But then we realised what they'd done. Had to smile. Is it graffiti? Council's annoyed cos they've now gotta clean the rest of the bridge."

Cunning must run in the blood in Wiltshire. First those canny moonrakers smuggle their brandy by hiding it in a pond, then, centuries later, a crafty bunch clean their way to a sellout festival. Sad thing is, looks like the organisers may be heading for prosecution over graffiti.

Seems a little harsh. After all, it's nothing a little rain water won't fix.

So am I a 'lunatic'?

2009-12-04T20:21:00.001Z

I've always wondered how I would've been employed in days of yore. A farmer? A merchant? A street urchin? Nope. Turns out I would've made an excellent smuggler. But for our extended pub breaks, my need for a torch, the barbed-wire incident, the stopping every five yards to photograph the moon. And my complete reliance on a map. Or, more truthfully, my complete reliance on somebody else with a map, who can actually read a map.

On Wednesday, that man was Pete. I invested complete faith in this chap. A Long Distance Walker (never a 'rambler' - there's a difference), Pete was the man to set the route, read the map, and guide us nearly 20 miles from the heart of Salisbury Plain to Devizes, where my hunt for lunacy - and my penultimate moonwalk - would conclude.

Pete forgot the map.

Luckily, John the Compass joined us on our moonlit traipse across fields, across tank tracks, through farmyards, over bridges, through graveyards, past beautiful thatched cottages. His compass glows in the dark!

So three hardy souls crossed Salisbury Plain to recreate a version of the Wiltshire moonraker story, which a good friend told me at the end of last year. From the day I heard the story, I knew I had to walk the walk, smuggle the brandy and experience just how mad these 17th (or 18th) century fellows were. As the rain pelted against us and we found ourselves completely lost somewhere near Urchfont, I decided they were very mad.

Perhaps even lunatics.

Weather forecasters predicted 'showers'. A shower in a car is nothing. When you're on the Imber Path and it's dark around you and you know one wrong step and you could end up in the army's territory, a shower produces more fear. The moon refused to show her face. Puddles turned to lakes. And I started to wonder whether this was a moonwalk too far.

Lunatic

Pete 'The Mapless' and John 'The Compass'

The booty

The rain came down (photo by John the Compass)

Then we saw this

The moonraker story concludes with barrels of brandy in a pond. Is the pond the Crammer in Devizes? We hoped so, as we made it our final destination.

I managed to speak to local Devizes historian and blacksmith John Girvan at Canal Forge. The blacksmith told me the moonraker story as he's learned it. He also drove me to the graveyard of the former Wiltshire County Lunatic Asylum, where those tortured souls who suffered from 'lunacy' (ie turned mad by full moon) were buried. The night before, Pete had led us between the graves of the men and women whose lives were regulated inside the padded cells of 'Roundway Hospital' (the rebranding of 'lunatic asylums' over the years is fascinating).

John Girvan then showed me this.

John with the electro-galvanic therapy machine from the Wilts County Lunatic Asylum

The asylum is full of harrowing history.

The moonwalk was filled with wrong turns, jollity, mud, rain, more mud, ruined boots, beer, brandy, moon and more.

It was a special night and I hope this moonwalk served as a fitting tribute both to the moonrakers of legend, thought mad by those who stopped them at the pond as they raked their moon, and the troubled people in the former lunatic asylum, trapped in their own minds and thought mad by society.

But now I must stop and save the best bits for the book.

Like the encounter with the colonel. And the walk through the spooky grounds of the former lunatic asylum in the dead of night. And the slip into the barbed wire fence. And the knocking on the door of the farm in the middle of nowhere. And the final hunt for the Crammer. And the weird message outside the forge...

Huge thank you to Pete, John and John - fine fellows all.

Pre-moonwalk moonwalk - going local

2009-12-01T21:39:00.000Z

Good evening, all. It's the eve of my penultimate moonwalk of 2009 and after I spotted a 99.7%-full moon smiling outside the window earlier, I couldn't resist going for a cheeky moonlit stroll before the main event tomorrow. Which promises to be a special affair. If I don't get shot...

Tonight, I wandered the empty streets of Waltham Abbey under a distant, hazy, misty, spooky December full moon (she's fullest at 0730 tomorrow, hence dedicating tomorrow to the main adventure). Waltham is where I grew up ("the Abbey" if you live here and prowled the streets as a teen). Last week, the town celebrated the switching on of the Christmas lights with the usual colourful cavalcade. And, I'd guess, drunken revelry. So a week later, I felt it safe to embark on a pre-moonwalk warm up.

Glad I did.

Waltham Abbey Church with moon for company

The Abbey (so I prowled the streets once) takes on a charm at night. When the streets don't echo to the sound of beer-swilling youths discussing the curry they've just scoffed, the ancient town reclines elegantly in the still air. I like darkness at night, and sadly my town doesn't offer much of that. But somehow, she gets away with it.

Shop fronts glow, streetlights bleed, uplighters try their best to bring down aircraft. But the majesty of the thousand year-old church, the quiet of the graveyard where King Harold (avec arrow) supposedly rests, the sloping, angular, wonky, typically-Tudor market square all take modernity in their stride.

Mum walked with me tonight. It was cold. "It's cold," she said. It was nippy - a couple of degrees above freezing. "It's cold," she repeated. "Yes, Mum, it's cold."

"It's cold, Rob."

I think Mum's insistence on reminding me it was cold somehow made it colder.

We reached Sun Street near the end of our circuit. I spent a good few minutes balancing my camera on a pillar box to photograph Sun Street by moonlight. I thought if I snapped a good enough photo, they may think about rebranding. Moon Street.

Moon Street, Waltham Abbey, December 2009

I must admit, the town is looking pretty...pretty at the moment. If there's one thing Waltham Abbey does well, it's hang lights between old buildings. With moon-like bulbs flickering in the windows of cosy pubs, I was very tempted to pop in for a winter warmer.

But then I realised I'm walking 16 miles through tank tracks tomorrow, across an area of land used for live artillery practice, with two men I've never met. They're long distance walkers. One's called Pete. The other is JC (formerly John the Foot, then John the Compass, now just plain old JC). I'm hunting lunacy. Which is why a blacksmith has promised to take me to a lunatic graveyard.

Part of me can't wait for the adventure. Part of me thinks I've gone mad.

We'll soon see...

Seeing Britain in a different light...

2009-11-29T19:30:00.000Z

With November creeping towards December, dark nights taking us towards winter solstice, and Moonwalking 2009 drawing to its natural conclusion, it's time to take a quick look at where in Britain I've moonwalked this year. And what I've hunted for.

Please welcome... Britain by full moon:

Time after time this year, plans changed. I thought I had my year set in January. But oh how I was wrong. People asked me on adventures I couldn't resist. Research threw up some quests that sounded too appealing. The moon opened new avenues of investigation. And, of course, people cancelled. Walking groups told me I was a journalist so couldn't join in. Covens said I was an outsider. Christian groups ignored me.

Equally, kindness has paved each and every one of my moonwalks this year. Yes, I've met crazy people who've asked me if I want to die and, if so, whether in Brighton or elsewhere. Men have threatened to feed me to mythical creatures. But I've found a charming side of humans that until this year I probably doubted existed at the end of the the first decade of the new millennium.

With two walks remaining, it's time to build moonwalking to a crescendo and promote this wonderful adventure to the world. And when I say "moonwalking", I don't mean me or my travels; I mean a nocturnal adventure by the light of the full moon. There's just a month remaining of the International Year of Astronomy. We'll have to wait another 100 years for the next lunar anniversary of this size. Exactly. Let's make the most of this one.

There's something exciting on the horizon.

I'll reveal more very soon.

Here's a clue... 31.12.09.

Moon face

2009-11-27T14:04:00.000Z

This week I've been putting together a book proposal for Moonwalking - to try and convince publishers that although I'm not a celebrity, I can write a book; and I may actually have a reasonably interesting story to tell...but writing this proposal in celebrity language. So I'm actually the BEST WRITER EVER but strangely nobody's ever heard of me before. BESTSELLER! MONEY! RICHES!

Anyway, I took a slightly different approach. Words and designs. Something eye-catching. Something to persuade marketing teams that Moonwalking is commercial (to me - interesting; to others - commercial). Apparently 'My mum wants a copy' isn't enough these days to secure a deal.

So I had a go at mocking up a front cover to include in the proposal. Just for fun. See what you think. Any comments welcome (except the really nasty ones that criticise my hair).

Just look what the moon provokes

2009-11-25T16:44:00.001Z

At the beginning of the year, I emailed Dr Arnold Lieber, the American psychologist who devoted much of his academic life to studying the lunar effect and "biological tides" theory - the idea that life on Earth is affected by our lunar cousin. Is it? Are we? Dr Lieber can't say one way or the other. In fact, his research proved it one way. And then the other. The man, I'm guessing, was gutted (I'm guessing he was gutted; I'm not doubting his gender). Though his email to me hid his disappointment well.

It went something like.

Yes, I'm still interested in lunar study. You should probably read the sequel to The Lunar Effect as the results of follow-up research weren't quite so conclusive. I'm now retired.

So with Dr Lieber still floating around my mind, and his book still taking pride of place on my desk, I almost whooped with joy this morning when I saw my old Californian friend (does an email constitute friendship?) name-checked in Rick Stroud's The Book of the Moon. But Rick isn't so kind to the doc.

"His theories are contentious, and Lieber has legions of detractors as well as supporters. His work is held by some to be at best bad science and at worst crackpot," he writes.

Legions of detractors like you, Rick? "Yes" is the answer, as I discovered when I attended the launch of Rick's lunography (lunar-biography - you won't find that in the dictionary). Rick stood before us and chuckled at any notion of a lunar effect. After all, the moon is over 200,000 miles away from us. It can't influence us.

I'm not so sure. And I've thrown myself into the lion's den this year to try and find out...

In Wales, in June, I watched two steaming (drunk and angry) Welsh pensioners almost come to blows over a spilt pint. It was full moon. In May, two wild ponies squared up and walloped each other (I think one was having an affair with the other's wife). It was full moon. In November, a Yorkshire Terrier went absolutely bonkers on a beach in Cornwall. Full moon. In March, two gunmen murdered 25 people in America and Germany. Guess what the moon was up to.

Now I don't blame the moon. It's a rock. And from what I've learned this year, rocks are rubbish at defending themselves. And neither do I claim to have found a correlation between moon phase and behaviour of life on Earth. But it's a bit weird. Isn't it?

And then there are the coincidences. The many people I've bumped into across the country during moonwalks. And the strange emails. The odd photos. The friends of friends who've always moonwalked and always wanted to find someone with the same interest. The right-place-right-time occurrences. All very weird.

Cosmobiology is a big subject (and a really difficult word to say after a beer). It states, amongst other hard-to-say things, that because the moon drags the tides (fact) and humans are made up of 80% water (fact), the moon must surely also drag our innards, affect our organs, stretch our glands, and make us act a bit strangely. (Well, I did kill that man. No, of course I didn't. Surely it wasn't a man?)

Rick Stroud says No, fools, our bodies are closed, bounded water systems; the sea is open, unbounded, completely different. Yes, says the Dr Lieber of 20 years ago. Maybe, says today's Dr Lieber.

We'll never know, says Moon Man.

If you'd like to read why I think we'll never know, I hope to reveal all soon...

Time to try it!

2009-11-22T12:59:00.001Z

Recently, I had an article published in Cornwall Today, a beautiful magazine that covers anything and everything Cornish. I'd like to elaborate a little on the article. I don't want to just say 'Go moonwalking'; after a year of adventures, let me now suggest some different sorts of moonwalks to enjoy.

1. The Beach

I'll start with my favourite. The sea at night has the power to transfix the walker - the roars, the rollings tssshh, the glimmer of distant ships, the fishy smells of seaweed, the repetition, the in and out, the sloshing, the knowledge that one slip and chances of seeing tomorrow vastly diminish. There's something exhilarating, frightening, real about walking along a beach at night. Add the moon. It can be incredible. As the smooth light of the moon lays its path from horizon to beach, you can do nothing but wonder and contemplate. The rainbow of night, always just out of reach. Sea(moon)walking is a beauty for all your senses.

2. The City

A completely different experience. But still a great one, providing you don't look at anybody. No - in a year of walking through towns and cities, and stopping and talking to fellow nightwalkers, and strolling down the odd alleyway, I've never been hurt. In fact, even spending a night in violent Brighton I couldn't get a punch. A city at night, for me, beats a day-time city. Fewer people, eerie shadows, buildings lit like Christmas trees, the urban fox, the night-time scavengers. And the best thing about moonwalking a city - it's so easy. On a clear night, why not walk to the restaurant, the train station, the pub? Then walk home again. Take in the night sights and sounds. Watch the drunken youths ejected from the kebab shop. Hear the abuse. And be happy you're not a drunken reveller but instead an enthused moonwalker. (OK, expect a couple of strange looks.)

3. Fells and Tors

Nature walking at night can be very dangerous. Exciting, challenging, heart-thumpingly blood-rushing. But treacherous. Doesn't mean I'm not advising a late-night stroll across Dartmoor or the Lake District or plains or downs, but may I recommend taking proper equipment and somebody who knows where you are (and not a couple of cereal bars and an absorbent waterproof from Trago Mills). Rocks sit on puddles, mud quickly turns to a slope, eyesight takes a good 30 minutes to become nightsight. When the moon shows, she can light the hills and ravines for miles around, and an artist could paint nothing finer. But remember to take good care - or a friend who points out the chasm in front of you.

4. Rivers and Canals

I love watching water lit by moonlight - there's something hypnotic about it. Just be careful not to mistake the water for a shimmering towpath because you'll get a bit wet. On all moonwalks, it's good to keep eyes peeled for people and animals behaving strangely, as so much research suggests they will. On the river, look out for ducks threatening swans, or geese juggling their young. As the rivers and canals meander into the distance, think back to the days airforces would follow these silvery tracks to their bombing targets.

5. Somewhere You Think You Know

This can be any of the above or just your local town or supermarket car park or a local park or field or alleyway that always scared you. Try it. See somewhere you know in a different light. Make that light moonlight. Find reflections, moonshadows, hear creepy calls, cracking twigs, allow your eyes to dart, your heart to thump. Take friends, take family. Look up - see a distant glowing rock with a millenia of mystery attached and walk with her.

Have a full moon wander, a full moon gathering, use the moon as your calendar and your timekeeper. I assure you, you'll find something you didn't know, see something you've never seen before. And you'll be glad of it.

Next full moon - December 2nd 2009
Final full moon of 2009 - December 31st (New Year's Eve - blue moon!)

(If you moonwalk before the year is out, please send me your story and I'll publish what I can on the blog.)

Who should present Moonwalking?

2009-11-18T17:57:00.000Z

I think this speaks for itself...

OK, I'll add a little something. No, a big something. A big thank you to the 28 people who took the time to vote on this, my latest poll.

If Moonwalking became a TV documentary, who should present my baby?

November's poll is officially Moonwalking's most popular. Ever. It makes the poll about favourite blog topics seem inconsequential. It dwarfs the importance of how many people you think will have visited the blog by the end of the year. And the one about everyone's favourite nocturnal animal, pah! Nearly 30 people voted - and voted in a way I really didn't expect.

Stephen Fry's popularity is finally waning. With just three votes, Stephen is your second choice to present Moonwalking, The Series. Stephen should be worried. This is pretty conclusive. Poor Stephen - feel a bit sorry for him now.

My favourite, Paul Merton, did even worse with just two votes. Think of the humour that man could bring to the show! And the weight fluctuations; like the moon herself, his size could wax and wane as the series develops. But no. Sorry, Paul. The world has spoken.

Derren Brown or Professor Brian Cox? Both fine presenters. Both articulate, interesting, engaging men. Not good enough for Moonwalking it would seem. Just one vote each. Dear oh dear, chaps. Shocking.

So who should present the show that doesn't exist?

Me. Little old me. Oh.

It's very kind of you to say so. And of course I'm joking about all those fine fellows above, who I'm sure would throw themselves into the lunacy of moonwalking with gusto. Can you really imagine me presenting a documentary series about moonwalking? Seeing me run for cover when a heron flies from the trees in the Lost Gardens of Heligan. See me knee deep in...something on the wild tors of Dartmoor. See me embracing a Moon Goddess and then getting a bit tongue-tied. I'd make a complete fool of myself! Oh, I see what you mean now.

It'd be nice, really nice. And the idea has been mentioned to me and of course I said I'd be happy to give anything a go (except bog-snorkelling and fighting a brown bear). But the celebrity presenter is far more likely.

But I'll send this on to the lady who mentioned the idea and explain that my friends have spoken. And that they'll boycott Moonwalking if they don't get to see me frightened by a heron. I'll let you know how it goes...

Full Moon vs New Moon

2009-11-15T15:59:00.000Z

The moon is in the news a lot at the moment. Lots of things are happening with her and to her. There's that whole water-being-found thing (which means we can soon go and use the moon as a dumping ground for stuff while we shoot off for manned missions to Mars, says a slightly-paraphrased Nasa). There's that film, New Moon, with the tall British fella. And there's that young chap walking around Britain by the light of the full moon. I think we've heard enough recently about the first and last, so let's try New Moon.

I haven't read the Twilight series of books by Stephenie Meyer. So I'm going to write a short review of the books/films from what I've gleaned by walking around London and seeing posters.

Twilight is a series of books by Stephenie Meyer (which we established earlier). Each book contains a plot. And each plot appears to concern something to do with night and zombies and horror. New Moon appears to focus quite heavily on the moon - though, oddly, it uses a full moon in its advertising (be difficult to use a new moon, I guess, as we can't see it). Here we should distinguish between my knowledge of the book and my knowledge of the film. The book I haven't read. The film - I haven't seen. But the film, I guess, is out now (as books rarely get this level of press attention.)

So the film... The big British fella with the square jaw is the hero (or nemesis). Something bad happens, at night, possibly around new moon (or full moon). Big British fella leaps into action (or doesn't) and fights the evil (or possibly not evil) things with the help of a couple of (or more) glamorous assistants. I'm imagining Buffy the Vampire Slayer meets Harry Potter.

There are four books in the trilogy+1. New Moon is the second. Which means the plot isn't concluded in this film because otherwise the next two, Eclipse and Breaking Dawn (oh yeah, I've done my research), would be rubbish.

And that pretty much sums it up. There might be a bit more to it (or less). If this review has tempted you, please do read the books and let me know how accurate I was.

Oh and here's what I imagine Breaking Dawn will be like, from what I've read in the article which called the last book in the trilogy+1 "Breaking Dawn"...

A girl, called Dawn, is the happiest girl in the world. Every day she's alive, people curse her for being so happy. "There goes Happy Dawn," people curse, every day. Then, one night, another girl comes into town (on full moon). She breaks Dawn.

Moon Man - In Print

2009-11-13T13:17:00.000Z

In the next week or so, my first magazine feature will be out in shops. Probably not a shop near you as the feature was commissioned by the editor at Cornwall Today, a lovely lady called Kirstie. But it will be in shops. My writing, in shops. To be bought. I'm very excited.

You may have guessed, the feature focuses on moonwalking - that hobby some of us have where we walk around interesting places by the light of the full moon. And the article all came about through a cheeky Twitter message to @Cornwall_Today. It went something like - "Hi, I'm a moonwalker. Discovering Britain by full moon. Cornwall features. DM me if you'd like to chat". @Cornwall_Today replied, to my great surprise. Something like - "Yes. OK."

We exchanged emails and phone calls and I got the commission for a couple-of-pages feature in the December issue of what is a very fine, very well-produced, beautifully-designed monthly magazine about the best things in Cornwall. Because the subject has such enormous scope, I went a little over the word count. And not a word - as far as I could tell when I visited Kirstie last month - has been cut. Which very rarely happens in the cut-throat, cut-word world of magazine publishing.

Of course I can't reproduce the article here (because I'd get a HUGE slap). But I can certainly encourage you to read it if you live in or pass through the beautiful county of Cornwall. I've written about how tranquil a bit on moonlit strolling can be - especially with friends, especially near the sea. And I've encouraged those who plan to get dangerously drunk this New Year's Eve to look in the sky and go for a stroll before they lose control of their bladders, because they'll see a full moon dangling above them like a bauble. But not just any full moon. The International Year of Astronomy's 13th full moon.

Blue moon.

You know you want to...

Moon Man - On Air

2009-11-10T20:00:00.001Z

Tonight, I had my first radio interview. I'd like to say it was my first ever media interview. But that would be a lie. (If you click here, you can see some early linguistic talent, like "I'd had friends who'd come over and done the exchange", from an interview I gave in 2005 about studying in California.) Tonight's momentous event focused on moonwalking - the hobby, the attraction and the travels.

OK, I must point out that the interview was for Source FM. What, you haven't heard of Source? It's Falmouth's local radio station. And lots of good friends and old tutors and editors and writers and folk present shows. It's known for its quirky, whimsical approach to radio. And how whimsical to talk about moonwalking after a piece on George Clooney and a pier.

Though it did get a bit heavy with talk of charity. And dogging.

How do you prepare for a radio interview? I spent the afternoon meeting a lovely moon poet called Penelope (Penny) who bought me tea in the Royal Festival Hall on the South Bank. Though that meet nearly didn't happen when I hopped in the Hall's lift with the maintenance guy and tried to descend into the workings of the building. Thankfully, he stopped me before I got lost. And before I broke anything.

I got home a little before I was due on air (sorry, that's technical media talk for...on air) and researched, read up on moon facts, practised JFK's moon speech, cleared my airways. No, of course I didn't. We all know how useless I am at preparation. I worried about tripping over long words like "moon", or accidentally telling people about my bowels or something. Thankfully, that didn't happen. But I did suggest I'd killed a man by pushing him over a cliff by full moon ("because it's easier to see the edge by full moon" - Lord).

The presenter, Tina, spoke to me after the show and said I did "great". Which, to be completely honest, came as a big surprise. Because I also hinted that Pendennis Point in Falmouth is a good place to watch people in cars having sex. And I may have compared myself to George Clooney. God, thinking back, "great" is completely the wrong word.

Tina tells me she may be able to email me the interview. If she does, don't worry, I will burn it for you. Bring on my first TV appearance!

Moon Man

2009-11-07T13:04:00.000Z

Today I'm writing my chapter breakdown for "Moonwalking". I know, revealing secrets here. Well, not really. To pitch a book to a publisher I need a breakdown of my adventures: one page as a substitute for a chapter. It's not easy. So much has happened this year; so many people, so many coincidences, so much out-of-the-ordinary adventure. And they want me to tell it in 14 pages.

One thing that jumps out during this process is the development of my story. I've started to realise just how life-changing moonwalking has been - how rewarding throwing myself into this nocturnal way of living has proved. I don't want to sound like a luvvie, darling, but a few quests, a bit of oomph, a big heap of fear and a healthy dose of new people and new pursuits has turned me from a boring corner-dwelling party attendee to a next-to-people-"you should meet this man, he's mad"-storyteller.

I've gone from Rob, that single bloke who keeps going on about his ex- and how he'd like to do something different with his life, to Moon Man. That weirdo.

And it's Moon Man I wanted to introduce here. It's he who I've found this year. From my first trip to the Royal Observatory, to last week's secret-beach sortie, Moon Man has become me (or I have become Moon Man). Which is a bit odd - in a warm, avuncular sort of way. "Ah, you must be Moon Man." "Ladies, this is Moon Man." "So we're in the presence of Moon Man, eh!"

"Ah, no, it's Rob actually-- I mean, yes, Moon Man...Moon Man Self-Pierson. My parents thought it'd be a laugh. Like Neville Neville."

So I've become Moon Man. Or, occasionally, Moonwalker. Though I think I prefer Moon Man as it means I don't have to try and walk backwards like MJ and grab my crotch and shriek. Sometimes I do that anyway. Usually when I retreat to the corner.

Remember, Remember the Moon of November

2009-11-04T14:29:00.001Z

Clogged of lung and cloudy of head, 11 days ago I hit the road and headed back to Cornwall for a moonwalk I'd planned over two years ago.

As we all now know, Moonwalking began in Cornwall. It danced around my head while I studied the Professional Writing MA in Falmouth. Wet wet Falmouth. My slightly odd nightwalking habit - walking around after dark and seeing what sort of trouble I could get into - gained a following. Such a following that it sparked huge interest from Susy, my tutor, and other course leaders.

Susy's interest was personal. I soon discovered that she and friends walked secretly once a month by the light of the full moon. We got chatting. I got excited. And I chose to dedicate 2009 to this very pursuit: the pursuit of whatever I could find under full moon. So I asked Susy if I could join her group for a walk in 2008 - a taster, a practice.

She said No.

This wasn't a mean 'no', it turned out. I just wasn't woman enough.

The Head Moon of the Falmouth moonwalkers - who visit the same beach every month and sit and contemplate the full moon as she rises from the sea and arcs overhead - seemed to dislike the idea of a man in the mix, said Susy. Plus when I'd asked, a close friend of the group had been diagnosed with cancer so not a good time for an outsider who might like to try moonwalking to join. It would be sad, reflective. It would be close and personal. I completely understood. Maybe another night. When I had experience and could add something to the ladies' meditative hobby.

And that other night was Monday. I awoke in the morning to squally showers outside; I'd never seen downpours pour quite so horizontally. The wind - oh, the wind. Gulls were being flung into cottages, walkers buffeted by gales that only Cornwall and the Highlands could survive. The moon was a distant dream.

The story of how I came to join the walk must be saved for the book. And the story of the yapping dog and moonlit poetry and men in our lives must also wait. But be prepared - November's moon is full of ups and downs. We're talking health, dreams, love, women, beauty. We're talking poetry, moon chats, Halloween, parties. There's rain, there's cold, there's warmth. There's longing.

And there's a strong feeling of coming to the end. To completing the circuit. So close: so scarily close.

Next month it's ley lines, Stonehenge, lunacy, madness and many miles of walking with a bottle of brandy. And, you never know, maybe that ex-girlfriend by my side.

Once upon a time, a young couple lived in this flat in Falmouth...

Then they didn't live in that flat. And they weren't a young couple. So one of them decided to walk around Britain following this...

Over a year he experienced some fantastic adventures. In November, a group of ladies and a dog led the young man to a secluded beach...

But he didn't find love this November full moon. Because he was dressed in a strange waterproof lumberjack outfit with very high trousers...

...a vest, and braces...

Soon the police came along and locked him up forever more.

My agent

2009-10-31T11:57:00.000Z

I think it's probably the right time to spread the news. I have an agent. Yay! Now let me explain what I think that means.

I can retire.

Course not.

I now have a lovely lady called Susan, who works for MBA Literary Agents, working with me on my writing projects. For Moonwalking this means Susan can help me champion the idea to publishers. So rather than me writing grovelling letters to publishers on the off-chance they've got a bit of spare cash, Susan can lunch with publishers on the off-chance they've got a bit of spare cash. She earns a little pocket money if we secure a publishing deal; I gain a big smile. Then I retire.

Course not.

This is a great opportunity to see my work go further than my laptop. It's a platform. Perhaps even a springboard. Maybe a trampoline. A rocket! It's something, I know that. But I still need to put in the effort, make the calls, meet the people.

Susan contacted me through Gareth May, who I'm hoping to meet this weekend. He's a young lad who studied the same course as me. Gareth's first book, 150 Things Every Man Should Know, is released in the next couple of weeks. Which is all rather exciting for the chap. I saw Gareth's story at the end of last year (he was published in broadsheets), when Moonwalking was a mere whiff of an idea. I emailed him and six months later heard back: a lovely email offering great advice.

But before I could go any further, before I could act on the advice, Susan emailed me and said nice things. After an epic meeting in her London offices a couple of weeks ago, she offered me a contract. Last week I signed it. Once the Post Office stops striking, I hope she'll receive my confirmation and we'll live happily ever after. Then I can retire. Or push myself a little harder.

I think I know which will happen.

So, for all you wonderful people out there who read this blog and send me emails and follow me on Twitter and scream and faint when I walk past, you may soon be able to buy a little book about a young lad who experienced a bit of heartbreak and went in search of the mysteries of the moon. And learned some fascinating things.

Next step: publisher.

Sea by night

2009-10-27T07:57:00.000Z

This week I'm in Cornwall. Ten days away from my moonwriting desk. All because of a beer festival on a Saturday and a moonwalk nine days later.

It's a great chance to return to my moon roots: Falmouth being the home of my first moonwalking adventure over 18 months ago. And thankfully not much has changed - though there is a new Lidl on the outskirts of town, and a Sainsbury's. But ambling along the coast at night, in the rain, remains liberating, exciting, refreshing and soaking.

Last night, few ventured out. Sea mist had taken the town. A couple of hardy souls walked dogs, but others were just too sensible to nightwalk in this sort of weather. But give me a couple of tasty local ales and a hearty steak dinner and I'm all yours, if you're rain and sea (certainly not what the doctor ordered last week when I choked my symptoms to her).

There's a problem with walking alone in bad weather at night. It's that the few other people who are out have a better reason to be out than "I like nightwalking". Usually there's a scruffy dog being dragged along, or it's a young couple trying to be romantic and nature conspiring against them. Or it's a chef rushing home after a night in his seafood restaurant. It's rarely a single man, alone.

People stare. Even if you do happen to spot another single man strolling, he'll give you a quick suspicious stare whilst plodding along. But, to be fair, I do the same. "What's that weirdo doing out at this time by himself? Up to no good, I'm sure."

There were no characters from last night to tell you about. Oh except for the men and women I imagined playing poker in the ships that undulated on the horizon. With the seas rough around them, they cursed as their chips hit the deck. But they gambled into the night - grumbling, laughing, joking, swearing. And they looked back to Falmouth, through a shared mist. Their families miles away - but their friends taking their minds off that. And taking their money in the process.

A night on the City (part II)

2009-10-22T16:40:00.000+01:00

(click here for Part I)

Great metal spikes protrude from the legs of the park bench, which show how the bench was once securely attached to the ground. OK, 'securely' is probably the wrong word. A suited man and glamorous woman approach me, while I get my photo of the orphaned bench. I start to imagine the undergraduate party that led to this most 'uni' of stunts. With Birkbeck College just around the corner, I picture the students - a few lads in fancy dress - wresting the poor bench from its fixtures in nearby Gordon Square and lugging it here, onto the edge of a busy London road. How they must've laughed. Then I realise how much I look like a floppy-haired student who's just lugged a park bench from Gordon Square onto the edge of this busy London road. The glamorous lady gives me a suspicious look. I leave, with a guilty smile.

@Waxingmoonman Students. Birkbeck. Quick, find the glottal stop or be beaten.

Right, I've been walking for about half an hour. I should be back at the event by now. So just another couple of London's squares and I'll return. But no. Of course, instead, not through choice, I lose myself in the labyrinth of London's bloomin' Bloomsbury area.

For the next ten minutes, I stroll around Woburn Place, Tavistock Square, Gower Street, and back and forth and up and down and around the squares, all the time checking my map and looking ripe for a quick mugging. But of course no thieves come near - they see I'm carrying one of the cheapest phones on the market and writing things in a notepad; they're probably more scared of me than I am of them. Lunatic!

woburn food n wine sells tacky london hats

people don't stop and look at things at night

London at night is a strange place. With the sun setting early in the evening in autumn, busyness continues well after dark. Pubs shake with the roar of workers and revellers spending their big money. But as the hours pass, those who live here go home; there's little reason to be on the streets too late. Unless you work night shifts in Tesco Metro. Or you're homeless and you're wrapped in rotting sheets that won't keep out any of this biting cold.

Head down, eyes down. Shadows, made by burning streetlights, pass in silence. Get home, shut the curtains, feel safe.

Keppel Street

I eventually orientate myself when I locate Keppel Street and the very serious voices of Birkbeck's brains quieten to a pleasant hush. Opposite, I find my last new square of the evening. The round one. I walk around it until I reach something very odd. Not another free newspaper distributor or homeless man wrapped in free newspaper. It's a big wooden thing. It looks a bit like something a giant dog might've done that its giant owner didn't spot. But it's not.

"thoughtful, provoking reminder of the UK's inextricable link to the sea"

'Driftwood' is a huge twisty, turny sculpture designed by Danecia Sibingo, a third-year architecture student. It lives on Bedford Square. At night, this creation produces an odd feeling of otherworldliness. As I feel its smooth finish, a woman on a bench stares at me, thinking me mad. So I continue to fondle the plywood structure, now with added fervour and relish, little drips of saliva falling from my mouth. She leaves with her purse grasped tight to her side and mobile pressed to her ear.

london - not mine, not anybody's

I pass the beautiful backside of the 18th-century British Museum as I walk along Russell Street towards the aptly-named October Gallery (it's October). There to my left is the scene of earlier's driver confrontation. Is that blood? Oh no, just some awful streetlight reflection.

I return. I find the gallery, I find Dan, and I'm in. Little victory. To a man who gets lost on a straight road, I feel proud of my skills. Not only did I manage to get myself hopelessly lost with a you-couldn't-possibly-get-lost-while-in-my-company map, I then managed to stumble back into known territory having seen the squares I wanted to see and, as a bonus, chancing upon a giant dog poo. Little victories indeed.

Dove Cottage by Full Moon

2009-10-21T10:37:00.000+01:00

In a year that celebrates the 400th anniversary of Galileo's and Harriott's first moon sketches, here's one of mine.

Spot the moon.

Moonwalk No. 9

2009-10-20T09:10:00.002+01:00

A night on the City

2009-10-18T17:26:00.002+01:00

The following happened last night on a brief nightwalk around London - a moonwalk without the moon. Here's a little retelling. It's a mixture of Twitter updates, notes from the night, images and narrative.

...

@Waxingmoonman Off to this stunning event tonight:

Saturday night, middle of October, and the chill has set in. After my previous attempt at attending a charity event with my good friend Dan (who nearly died with me for moonwalk no. 9) ended in navigational disaster, I set off early. It’s 4:45pm. This time I’m determined to attend, be on time, enjoy and not get lost. And it nearly all goes to plan.

Skies are heavy with cloud. Somewhere around me there’s a new moon – but of course I can’t see it.

The announcer at Loughton’s Tube station must be having a laugh – or a beer. “’Allo, ladies and gents there on the platform. Just a little message to fill you in. All’s lookin' good on the Central Line, smoove all the way today. Please 'op on the train now. Cheers.” He brings a big smile to my frosty face.

Posters promoting the full moon fill all the spare space on the Underground:

cirque du freak – vampire’s assistant. full moon. darren shan. went to same uni as the writer.

Right, this time I can’t get lost. This close-up A-to-Z of London’s streets will save me. Big letters, bright colours, little pictures of toilets and banks and gardens. You’d have to be an idiot to get lost with this. Or be a bit rubbish at reading giant maps.

I reach Holborn, on the dot.

@Waxingmoonman The one time I arrive on time for a bash and the bash is late. Going for a walk around London. Night creeping in.

London is covered in Squares. In fact, reading a map of London often feels like looking at a noughts and crosses grid. Crescents meet crossroads which meet T-junctions which lead to main roads and one-ways which often end in gardens and Squares. Russell Square, Tavistock Square, Gordon Square, the perfectly elliptical and therefore oddly-named Bedford Square, and back to Old Gloucester Street for tonight’s main event - that'll do for a quick and square nightwalk.

This amazingly complex street system makes a London nightwalk an exciting experience. Providing you look up to take it all in. Which is exactly what the furious American lady obviously didn’t do when she crossed Bedford Way into a car.

@Waxingmoonman Have instantly stumbled upon swanky hotel central. And HUGE argument between a learner driver and an American ball of anger.

"You were going to hit me."

I half-expect the angry American, now standing in front of the learner car, to then bellow, "I did not slurp my orange juice", such is her delivery. But she doesn’t; she just stands and screams abuse about the driver not looking. I piece together what happened from the lady’s assault on the learner driver, his instructor, and a black cab driver who now has his nose installed in the rear of the learner’s car.

A pleasant New Yorker left her house for a nightwalk around the Squares of London. Upon crossing Bedford Place, home to London’s hotels, she was targeted by a villain driving a learner car, pretending to be a novice driver. His accomplice, acting as his instructor, snarled at the woman as she crossed into the road. The men increased their speed and charged. She screamed. They cackled. "We’re going to hit her," they shouted, like mad drivers trying to maim a pedestrian. Then, somehow, a black cab crashed into the back of the pretend learner’s car and the lady escaped. She felt peeved.

Bloomsbury Square is rather open and boring, except for the mysterious chained-off tunnel that leads underneath it. So I head on - leaving the argument to rage - towards the thundering traffic of Russell Square. And this one I can enter. Though with the light fading, this is perhaps a bad move.

@Waxingmoonman A man who gets lost in London, gets lost in life.

@ClassicalReview Or gets beaten up. (in reply to @Waxingmoonman)

london - chopper, anger, languages, car lights, bikes, cold, smell cold n perfume n car fumes.

Just before I reach Birkbeck College and find myself suffocated by talk of the fiscal system and Pi, the most strangely positioned park bench in London appears before me. I soon spot how it arrived here.

To be continued...

Next - secret walking with ladies...

2009-10-14T20:10:00.001+01:00

In a couple of weeks I'll become the first non-female walker in the female walking group of Falmouth. Rumour has it that they even refused a Buddhist monk. It's a pretty secretive group, as the monk refusal suggests.

Here's what I know so far...

We meet somewhere in a layby. At some time. We chat and greet and wait for the small group to assemble. Then we walk along a road somewhere. Then we cross a field somewhere and head to a beach. We sit in silence and contemplate the moon.

Soon, the 'Head Moon' lights a small fire and we reconvene. We share chocolate, stories, laughter. We listen to the waves scratching on the pebbles and stones. And then - when it gets unbearably cold and our digits begin to freeze and snap off like rotten branches - we head home to warmth, with a feeling of escape and adventure still fizzing through our thawing veins.

Once again, I'm returning to Cornwall and to the sea. This keeps happening. And I like it. If Cornwall were home, I'd say this book was taking me home. Perhaps it should be home.

Full English

2009-10-11T15:29:00.000+01:00

I've just eaten sausage and bacon and beans and an egg. No, I'm not going to try to compare an egg yolk with a rising full moon, or bean's shape with an elliptical orbit. This is about travelling. Travelling around Britain. Lots.

By the end of this year, I'll have spent almost a month's worth of days crossing Great Britain in my hunt for moon-related bits and pieces. I'll have driven through many many counties, walked around nearly twenty towns and cities. I'll have met hundreds of people. I'll have lived through more night-time than most, seen more of the moon than many astronomers, bothered scientists, writers, publishers, tourists, locals, police. And, most importantly, I'll have clogged my system with an inordinate number of fried breakfasts.

The traditional British fry up - an abomination to much of Europe and much of the world - is a treat. As such, it should be enjoyed rarely. But to a travelling man, a man who's just spent the night's hours climbing peaks and fells, it becomes something far more regular. It becomes a tonic.

This year I've filled my body with enough bacon, sausages and beans to build a lifetime's worth of fatty insulation; I'm sure I now have more fat around my heart than a camel stores in its hump. But it's not that I'm a huge fan of this most British of greasy assortments. It's that I feel bad if I say no. I blame the kind bed-and-breakfast owners.

"Full English OK for you?"

"Yes, um, yep that'll be-" (say no, just say no, tell them the camel thing) "-that'll be great. Thank you."

A mind tired from nightwalking requires something the following morning: probably not fried food, but something. It's weary, disorientated, ugly. So when a genial landlady places heaped unhealthiness on a plate in front of you, and your mind fails to tell you that a banana would be a much better option, and that it doesn't have the capacity at this time in the morning to refuse what's been offered, you eat. You enjoy.

But when you do this three days in a row, every month, for a year, then forget and cook it for yourself on a dreary Sunday afternoon, the Full English Breakfast becomes less of a treat and more a sort of stodgy reminder that travelling isn't always the glamorous pursuit it appears when you flick through the glossy brochure.

Crash Test (Part II)

2009-10-08T16:21:00.001+01:00

Tomorrow morning the moon will explode. Honest. Well, part of the surface will look like it's exploding. Why? Because NASA is flying something into it.

Remember this?

The time has come to say goodbye to LCROSS, the kamikaze partner to the Lunar Reconnaissance Orbiter. At around lunchtime tomorrow (GMT), you'll be able to spot - if you have superhuman eyesight or a telescope with a ten-inch mirror - a six-mile plume of moon dust and rock rising from the lunar regolith. This was always the plan; the idea is to try to find water (more water than Chandrayaan-1 found just a couple of weeks ago) in the moon's poles.

Centaur carried LCROSS to the moon and it will be the first of the exploratory pairing to dive into the moon's south pole. That's 2.4 tonnes travelling at 1.6 miles per second. The LCROSS probe will pass through the plume and analyse the data before hurling itself into the same crater just four minutes later.

They may find more water, they may not. If they do, we could be another giant step towards establishing a base on our rocky lunar neighbour.

Avalon - faery nice indeed

2009-10-05T17:55:00.001+01:00

Streetlight sky behind Glastonbury Tor

How do you address a Goddess?

Ma'am? Your holiness? Your loveliness? Your mooniness?

On Saturday night I attended the Goddess Ceremony at the Goddess Temple in the wonderfully-eccentric medieval town of Glastonbury. OK, it's not medieval these days but then neither is it modern. Every man must wear a beard (it would seem), and dresses seem compulsory for the ladies. Folk music echoes in the streets. People dress as faeries. An ancient church sits atop an ancient mound, looking out to the town and nearby counties. Gods and goddesses, faeries and magicians, witches and wizards wander the streets smoking all manner of plants.

And you're telling me Glastonbury isn't a little bit medieval?

I went for the moon; instead I had a heart-to-heart with a moon goddess, the Moon Goddess - speaking to me through one of her priestesses, dressed slightly strangely in ribbons and a glittery mask with all manner of shiny tassles draped over her body. Her voice was sweet - and to others at the ceremony it clearly had healing powers. I approached not really knowing what to say. So I asked the one thing I could think to ask...

[thing I said to Moon Goddess omitted for must-have-something-left-for-book purposes]

But for the lack of moon - which was gutting as I perched in the perfect spot two nights and one glorious daybreak - I had a lovely time in Avalon. Avalon? Of Arthurian legend? Oh yeah - it's all in Glastonbury. Even one of my old pals from Cornwall, he was in Glastonbury.

"Rob?"

I heard my name as I reached the bottom of the Tor. But quickly realised that other people are allowed to be called "Rob" too.

"Hey, Rob."

It was Jason. The Squibb! (mentioned here) In Glastonbury. On a day trip with his girlfriend, Abbi - who loves the moon and faeries and all those earthly connections. Squibber here. The weekend I'm here. Walking past the gate to the Tor, which I've just visited and they're just about to. It was a last-minute decision for me to descend the heart-speeding hill this way and not back along the weird route I accidentally stumbled upon to get there. Mr Squibb, chatting to me 150 miles from his home, 170 miles from my home.

That's the third such encounter I've had this year. And they say once in a blue moon.

from the Tor to the town

So then: lots of humming and chanting and a brief encounter with the Moon Goddess, a fantastic sunset over Avalon, lots of rain thrown in my face, a full-moon moonwalk up the Tor to find out what that flickering fire's all about, a tour of the Abbey (which is so well hidden hardly anyone else was there - beautiful), Arthur, Joseph and some Godly blood, bumping into another Temple visitor in Chalice Well Gardens, a badger, and more. But only one slight glimpse of my moon.

Oh and mustn't forget the Faery Ball.

Faery fayre

I visited in the day and quizzed Brian Froud on the full moon and faeries. He told me some interesting tales. But my evening went to the Goddess. Though I did quiz a few young folk in the lovely Little Orchard (thank you, Di and Rod!) about their evening dancing with wings. The girls loved it. The men weren't so sure. It's odd to feel out of place because you're not wearing pointy ears...

Three walks to go. That was my scariest thought of the weekend.

Away with the fairies

2009-10-02T15:41:00.000+01:00

This weekend I’m going to Glastonbury to spend the Harvest full moon with the pagan community. For those who don’t know Glastonbury, like me, it’s in the heart of the British countryside and contains wonderfully eccentric people who enjoy nature.

This trip is a replacement trip. I’d planned to enjoy my October full moon with a cosy coven of which Debbie, the glamorous white witch of Waltham Abbey, is part. Sadly, the coven don’t like that idea. No spectators. But once Debbie had planted the esbat seed in my mind, I yearned to spend the full moon of the Halloween month with people who worship the Goddess.

So I’m going here. A couple of hours getting close to my inner Goddess sounds like a challenge well worth embracing.

It all appears serene and earthly and little more than a pleasant coming together of like-minded, open-minded people. I guess I’ll soon find out. After nearly losing my life in the Lake District, it’s probably what I need.

Booking accommodation hasn’t been easy. Especially with the help of the least useful tourist information office I’ve come across in years. For an organisation with “information” in its name, it doesn’t know a lot.

“Aren't any single rooms available this weekend. Someone tried earlier. Though that’s not saying there aren’t any single rooms available—”

Sort of is, isn’t it?

“If you call them, you may find some available.”

I called about ten B&Bs. All full. So last chance, I phoned Little Orchard.

“I’m 99 per cent sure I’ve got som'ink. But I’m out shoppin' at the moment.”

Turns out tomorrow night is the Faery Ball. Sorry, what? It’s a gathering of faery folk in Glastonbury Town Hall. Other than that, I’m not too sure. So when you’re not sure about something, you attend – that’s what I’ve learned this year. I won’t go to the night-time activity but I can’t turn down free daytime admission.

Then in the evening it’s off to the Goddess Temple for fun under full moon. Oh and I must pay a visit to Chalice Well and take a moonlit wander up the famous Tor.

Busy couple of days ahead.

(I think I booked a room at Little Orchard; it all got a bit confusing.)

You can follow my weekend adventures here www.twitter.com/waxingmoonman

Wonder no more

2009-09-29T11:06:00.000+01:00

from "Le Voyage dans la lune", Georges Méliès, 1902

The moon's been in the news again recently. An Indian satellite and two American spacecraft discovered evidence of water in the moon's soil on a recent trip out of our atmosphere. Great news. Or is it?

I held back from writing about this. I have reservations.

The discovery, scientists were quick to point out, could mean that humans' next manned descent to the moon's surface could be to buy up some housing. Water hugely increases the chances of human habitation of the moon. This discovery could mean the end of thousands of years of speculation about what living life on the dusty regolith would be like.

"The immemorial moon - the Moon of Myths, the Poets, the lovers - will have been taken from us forever. Part of our mind, a huge mass of our emotional wealth, will have gone. Artemis Diana, the silver planet, belonged in that fashion to all humanity: he who first reaches it steals something from us all."

C.S. Lewis, pre-1969

I fear this latest episode of lunar exploration could once and for all rob us of the mystery of the moon. 'Man' has a thirst for knowledge: an unquenchable thirst for knowledge. Stepping on the moon showed us our limits; its desolation, its barrenness, its sterility suggested occupation was impossible. Finding water will feed our ambition. Life on the moon will end millenia of wonder (like this) and intrigue and turn our mystical, mythical, romantic, unreachable, distant relative into a sibling we take for granted.

Sorry not to celebrate but I fear we stand to lose far more than we could ever gain.

All in one night

2009-09-26T21:41:00.001+01:00

I think Moonwalking will be quite a good read. Why do I think that? Not because I'm arrogant. Because I am absolutely terrible at getting from a to b.

Take tonight as an example. Under a setting sun, I set off for a little part of North London called Brent Terrace. I've been there before: not driven there, but been driven there. So I know what it looks like. I set off full of confidence and that excitement that comes with a rare night away from the laptop. And then I hit traffic on the North Circular, London's other orbital. People walked past me; they were idling along and still managed to round every corner before me. People overtook me. And then they sat in front of me.

Soon a perfect first quarter moon had risen and I was still driving. Night-time had arrived. This was bad for two reasons. Firstly - as I've learned from night travel - it's more difficult to locate things at night. Secondly, it's very hard to read a map without light.

I chugged on in my old trusty Fiesta. We'd get there.

Things started to go wrong.

The post code I had for the venue, sadly, wasn't the post code for the venue. It was actually the post code for no venue about ten minutes away. I tried to read my map while driving. Too dark. So I pulled over but hadn't brought the actual address I was trying to find. What do you do when things are going against you? I phoned home - just as a Met police car was pulling out opposite.

In a flash I hurled my phone to my feet and turned the engine off, pulled the keys out, flung them by the phone. Then I imagined what I'd tell the officer if he asked why I was sitting in a car with the sidelights on, with the keys and a mobile phone by my feet. Thankfully Mr Met drove on.

But the sudden loss of engine and hurling of keys upset my trusty Fiesta. She was trusty no more. She wouldn't start. So I was sitting in Cricklewood - which I'd never heard of - in a dead car, over an hour late for a gospel talent show that my good friend had invited me to in order to enjoy and review it.

So I asked two random Asian gentlemen if they'd mind giving me a push start. This took some effort. I clearly looked odd: long blonde hair, suit jacket, corduroy trousers, shoes, in the back end of a slightly rough-looking North London town that before today I didn't know existed.

"OK, we will do it." They looked to each other for strength and solidarity.

Then they proceeded to push me about two feet before walking off.

Like a weirdo, I began rocking back and forth to gain speed. The man in the Land Rover behind really must've wondered.

But she kangaroo'd into life and I continued up the road to my right, which promised to lead me to my venue. A couple of hours late.

No.

Brent Terrace is in two halves. The half I wanted was beyond an alleyway. But considering I drove past the half I didn't want and ended up in a housing estate with children kicking beer cans at my car, the alleyway wasn't an issue. It was only on my second circuit of this wrong route that I actually spotted the wrong half. First I had to ask a drunk Ukrainian how to get out of the estate and back to somewhere near Brent Terrace.

"You got map I tell you. You not, I don't. You have? Go back. I no need map. Go past shop, no, actually go farrrrr past shop and don't miss road. Be careful with your route!"

I drove up and down, down and up and then realised the drunk Ukrainian was very drunk. There was no shop.

It'd got stupid. I was too late to have the nerve to walk in to the show. I needed to get home. But first the loop of the wrong route again, passing every supermarket Brent Cross can offer. White vans and angry lorries hurried me along. Old grey ladies sneered as they passed.

I never made it to see J-Factor. The M1, M25 and moon brought me home instead.

Navigation is not my strong point. Getting lost - I'm great at that.

Good night.

In the beginning...

2009-09-23T15:04:00.000+01:00

One Giant Leap of Faith

photo by Maia

Why on Earth would somebody want to leave the comfort of their home one night every month and journey around 13 seemingly unrelated parts of Great Britain?

In 1969, three pioneering astronauts rocketed over 200,000 miles to the moon. Why? Because they could. Oh and because of the human desire to push limits, search, uncover, discover and do things that nobody has ever done before.

It’s now 2009 and, 40 years after man’s first Moonwalk, I’m going in search of the mysterious world of Britain under full moon: to push my own limits and mend a broken heart, search for fascinating people, uncover secret groups, discover lunar living and do things that most people are just too sane to do. I’m going moonwalking. I’m throwing off the shackles of light; laughing in the face of the sun. I’m all set to undertake the biggest journey of my life – armed with a value torch, a pair of cheap, rotting trainers and a couple of cereal bars.

And where does it all start? With a very odd – and my first ever – email from tarot.com and a tarot reading with a sexy witch to predict my year ahead. And the resurfacing of a 15-year-old fear that almost stopped my travels before they began.

Welcome to my year of moonwalks around Britain.

I said I’d love to and headed home, unaware of the quests that lay ahead. All I knew was this time I’d do it properly – travel with heart and mind and look out for rogue sticks. I’d do the research, bamboozle myself with astronomy and cosmology. I’d hurl myself into an adventure around Britain, month by month, in search of the veiled worlds of moonwalkers, moonplanters and lunatics, paganism, astrology, literature and folklore, Greek myth and anything else that sounded like it could lead somewhere mysterious. I’d attempt to speak to the Sir Patrick Moores, the Dr Allan Chapmans, the Brian Mays. Like Jason after the Golden Fleece, I’d embark on my travels through England in trainers, Wales in a rain coat and Scotland in a bra with naivety, hope and with luck a few gods on my side.

Moonwalking, Discovering Britain by Full Moon

A simple guide to Harvest Moon (not the game)

2009-09-19T20:52:00.000+01:00

Next full moon is the Harvest Moon.

This means it is the nearest full moon to the autumnal equinox, where day and night are nearly equal length (click here to read about the vernal equinox all those summer days ago). The Harvest Moon often falls in September, with the equinox, so an October full Harvest Moon is quite rare; you could say this occurrence is more rare than a blue moon.

People know the Harvest Moon - it's the the first Native American full-moon name people cite when I mention I'm moonwalking. There are some common misconceptions. Here they are--

1. It falls in September

No, not always. Two years out of three, the Harvest Moon will indeed fall in the same month as autumnal equinox. But sometimes we'll see an October Harvest Moon, like in 2009 when the October full moon falls on Sunday 4th.

2. It's brighter than other full moons

It's true that the Harvest Moon was more useful to farmers than other full moons; but it's nothing to do with its brightness (or 'albedo' (reflectivity), to avoid upsetting scientists). Night after night, the moon goes through changing faces, its phases. During this monthly cycle, she rises a little later every night - usually by about 50 minutes. However, over the time of Harvest Moon the moonrise time from one night to the next is closer. It's nearer 25-30 minutes. So the time between sunset and moonrise - which is pretty instant around full moon day - remains quite close. Thus more light for ye olde farmers to harvest ye olde crops.

3. Harvest Moon is so much bigger

It's an illusion. Although scientists aren't sure why, they - in fact we - know that the moon is not necessarily any closer in its apogee-perigee cycle around the equinox. Because we tend to see it closer to the horizon for a longer period at this time of the year, that may skew our judgement. This is one of several explanations. Take a look at this:

Thank you, www.moillusions.com

One look bigger than the other? Look again. Yes? I wonder why.

In the words of my old friend Sir Patrick Moore (who I met once), we just don't know.

4. It glows red

I was lucky enough to see my first moonrise looking out to sea from South Wales in June this year. I watched an enormous, fiery full moon rising swiftly from the water.

Of course, I didn't really see that. The moon is a dull rock reflecting sunlight. And we only see that 'moonlight' once it's passed through our atmosphere. And that's exactly where the red tint comes from. As we saw in the last point, the horizon trick could be a reason for why the Harvest Moon looks bigger than others. The horizon - and level of atmosphere light passes through near the horizon - is definitely the reason for the fireball. Low moon means light passing through a denser atmosphere and producing a red face.

Moor red moon stuff here

5. Harvest Moon (the game) is rubbish

Actually, it's not that bad. Yes, it's for five year olds but it's strangely addictive. I'm not sure I'd use it as a guide for biodynamic agriculture, but when you catch one of those big ol' fish it ain't half satisfying!

Outtakes

2009-09-16T20:03:00.002+01:00

Over the next few blogs, I'm going to show some Moonwalking elements that never made it. Never made it to the actual-writing-the-book stage and, sometimes, actual-moonwalk stage.

First - some straplines. (These are little marketing phrases that didn't make it; I have two others that work much better.)

Actually, the moon isn't a balloon.

(pre-MJ death)

None of that silly groin grabbing.

This is the proper way to moonwalk.

Aristotle. Copernicus. Galileo. Armstrong.
Rob.

Another moonwalker

2009-09-13T20:19:00.000+01:00

In 1969, Neil and Buzz moonwalked. Throughout the 80s and 90s, Michael Jackson moonwalked. Each year, thousands of men and women in bras moonwalk around London and Edinburgh. Once a month, I moonwalk. But who would've guessed they'd find a bird that moonwalks.

Moonwalking to me is a chance to experience walking with every sense: to smell and hear and see and touch where usually I'd only glance. It's a chance to meet people I'd never usually meet, go places I'd never think to visit. Moonwalking has provided a year of adventures by moonlight and moon-cloud. It's helped me recover from heartbreak, given me a new hobby, a new fascination with nature. Walking by the light of the full moon has opened another world and allowed me to discover Britain when the rest of the country is in bed asleep.

But to the club-winged manakin, moonwalking is a crude tribute to the King of Pop.

(watch from 2:30 for the moonwalk)

The video is ok. It's a bird hopping around a branch and a lady looking a bit silly. But the comments -- oh, the comments. This is what people watching the moonwalking bird thought:

birdlady423
WOW! THIS IS INCREDIBLE!!!

wautomarocks
that bird has to [be] michael jacksons cousin or something. that bird is really cool id like to have one like that

hedson25
bird with talent ....girl with none

heavydny86
That's more of a hammer time break down than the moonwalk

givebeesachance
God gave us the moonwalk! Once again, God defies gravity and gives man the power to walk on the earth as if he is walking on the moon. Science can't explain the moonwalk.

And my favourite:

gerontophil
Shut the **** ** You green ***wife , at least he's informing people about the bird , and that definitely makes more sense than talking **** like You do , imbecile!

Emotions certainly do run high when we start to discuss moonwalking and birds.

Beavers found on the moon!

2009-09-10T16:52:00.001+01:00

Last night, British mind-twister, Darren-wannabe Derren Brown predicted the National Lottery numbers live on television on a competing channel to BBC1. I watched it. And he definitely turned around five predictions that matched perfectly with those just sucked from the Lotto spin cycle on the other side. Perhaps Derren is from the other side too. Or perhaps the whole thing was a cheat. A trick. A hoax.

Like when The New York Sun reported John Herschel's magnificent findings from his 19th-century moon gazing.

Day 3 begins benignly enough. The group of astronomers turn their "telescope of vast dimensions" to the western limb of the moon. After a couple of extinct volcanoes, some hills and mountains, and a view of Mare Mortuum, the "Lake of Death", Herschel comes to Endymion, an area of-- Well, you'll see.

Right. Let's do this.

Let me introduce - I can't believe I'm doing this - the biped beaver:

If the grey pelicans and white cranes hadn't lost The Sun credibility, the upward-walking, hut-dwelling, child-cradling, fire-producing biped beavers quite possibly did. If the upward-walking, hut-dwelling, child-cradling, fire-producing biped beavers didn't, perhaps the man-bats did. Yep, man-bats: a bit like a man, a bit like a bat. You may have seen some on the short video above. Some are breasted - I like to call these breasted man-bats, or lady man-bats if you will.

The whole hoax is, as it should be, preposterous. From my travels I've met a lot of people with a lot of interesting views on the moon. But I'm yet to meet a person who believes in a fiery race of biped beavers. Or breasted man-bats.

Still, four walks to go.

Walkers Fell - a slippery night on Loughrigg

2009-09-07T22:23:00.002+01:00

Grasmere Lake

Fell walkers are a hardy bunch. Early morning you spot them, dressed in waterproofs and hiking boots, with sticks and compasses and OS maps and bottled water dangling from hi-vis, insulated jackets. They're steady and sturdy. They're grizzled and dogged - hungry to conquer a 900-metre high mountain. They're a special breed, solid yet agile, built for the slips, slops and sludge of the slopes, pikes and peaks of the Lake District.

I am not a fell walker. My colleague Dan, who joined me on moonwalk number nine, is not a fell walker. We are fools. Brave fools but fools. Fools lucky to have our lives.

I should explain.

Dorothy Wordsworth wrote a diary while her brother William and his best mate Samuel Taylor Coleridge ("STC" to the staff at Dove Cottage, the Wordsworth's retreat-cum-gift shop) turned The Lakes into poetry. While William wander'd lonely, Dorothy told us about his dodgy stomach. And then gave descriptive accounts of her own rambles around the Lakes, often by moonlight.

So where better to research for a moonwalk on the moon in literature than the home of the Wordsworths?

My design colleague Dan joined the Lakes moonwalk. He insisted and I was glad to have the company. We'd load the weekend with walks - meeting the people of Dove Cottage in the process. But most importantly I wanted to follow in the footsteps of Dorothy and spark that feminine connection with the moon (in preparation for my planned moonwalk with a group of ladies in Cornwall in November). Plus, what could be more picturesque than the undulating hills and shimmering lakes under sunlight and moonlight? As Dorothy says in her Grasmere Journals,

A fine moonlight night. The beauty of the Moon was startling as it rose to us over Loughrigg Fell.

And,

The moonlight shone only upon the village it did not eclipse the village lights & the sound of dancing & merriment came along the still air...

So on Friday we set off on our Wordsworthian adventure. We'd walk between towns and villages and fells and lakes, writing about what we saw, sketching here and there, and generally going a bit 19th century. All on foot of course. And, as it became clear, in the rain.

All began well. The coffin trail led us to Rydal Mount (as our cartoon map from lovely Carol and Celia, and scribbled map from Carrie in Dove Cottage promised). Over the road and Under Loughrigg appeared. Which led us to the Stepping Stones (no chance with the water rushing like this). Onwards to Ambleside - a lovely little town, which we grew to know after several trips through.

Dan on Loughrigg Fell

And then things turned mushy.

Loughrigg Fell may only be 325 metres tall, but when you are being led by a cartoon map, have similar navigational skills to a crane fly, are tired and hungry and thirsty, and you're trying to find east to watch moonrise... And darkness cloaks your surroundings. And every step is into water or thick, gripping mud. And that enormous, black cloud begins to throw down its contents. Then, the whole experience turns a little more desperate.

It's then that you thank the guardian jogger for her directions. The couple going the wrong way for their mistake. And the full moon - oh beacon on this dark, dangerous night. As there, over Loughrigg Fell, the startlingly beautiful moon lit the scene, including Rydal Lake, and uncloaked the treachery of those balancing rocks, pools of deceptive depth and rogue sheep.

When moonlight lit the village

Just four days. But four fantastic days. I mean I haven't even mentioned the near-slip into Grasmere Lake. The hidden waterfall. The open mouth of Loughrigg Quarry and the face in the rocks. The emergency Chinese takeaway. The pipes of the Butharlyp Howe (butterlip) hostel wedding. The queueing swan.

Let me leave you with this from Friday's Cockermouth Times & Star,

Busiest year for rescue teams

Mountain rescue teams across Cumbria are having one of their busiest years following a surge of calls from inexperienced walkers. Calls across the Lake District are up by 22 per cent thanks to more people taking holidays in Cumbria.

Keswick team leader Mark Hodgson says, "We've rescued people with mild hypothermia this August because they've gone out in nothing but a t-shirt. If you're up on the fells for a couple of hours it doesn't take long for the weather to change or for the temperature to drop."

Bet they forgot their cartoon maps as well as their trousers.

More of this adventure to follow next year in the book.

Time.

2009-09-02T20:32:00.000+01:00

I've gone freelance in my professional life to write a book. Office work awarded me no time. I need time to research. To travel. To write. To speak. To listen. I need time to track my months. A lunar month is a moon-cycle's length. Moon, month. 29.5 days. Synodic month - new moon to new moon. No more time than that - no less.

The full moon regulates my time - orders my life. So, yes, I gave up full-time, secure work to reach. To spend my time, the only time I have, making better use of my time.

Yet today I ran out of time.

I planned my October full moon adventure today. That means after this weekend, my Lake District literary lunar foray, September will disappear. A month will pass in a flash. In a moon cycle.

Last week I pitched my August full moon expoits to a magazine.

Earlier, I discussed December's blue moon with family.

Next week sees the restart of writing the book. Chapter one. London. First moonwalk - nine months ago.

In our time-obsessed world, it's difficult to experience timelessness. The sun and moon would regulate our ancestors - transits highlighting the habits of others. For hunting, meeting, eating. Not regulating in a demanding way - in an unobtrusive, distant way. So from tomorrow I'm going to try my best to avoid time. I know sunrise and sunset and moonrise and full moon. And in my four days walking across the Lake District, I'm going to squeeze in as much as I can.

Providing I don't run out of breath.

What my readers want...

2009-09-01T21:03:00.000+01:00

Another month, another moon. And another poll result. Exciting times.

The question was,

My moonwalks finish on 31 Dec 2009. Then the book begins. What would you like to see on this blog in 2010.

The results,

16% would like to read about my new book ideas
47% are after my 2010 travels
37% would like to read Moonwalking online (free, no strings), and
nobody wants an archive of moon facts

Hmm.

The results surprise me. I expected the offer of Moonwalking, Discovering Britain by Full Moon online (and free) to attract the votes. Not because I'm over-confident but because of the number of people this year who have asked the following: Can I have a signed copy of the book then?

I'd planned to cut out the middle man/lady; reduce the mileage between me and you. I write the words, you read them. I'd started to plan it - the great serialisation. Like a Hound of the Baskervilles or a Dickens' weekly unveiling of plot. But no. The reader has spoken and it's next year's travels that the majority wants to enjoy.

Well, actually, it's not that simple. A couple of recent emails and chats revealed more.

Reading habits change. Today, I struggle to read more than a couple of lines of text - as entertaining as those lines may be - without clicking to something else. And here lies a possible reason for my readers not wanting a serialised, online version of the book. Because they can click away. And because they'd prefer a book version of the book - something to hold, flick through, bend pages, gnaw on, or whatever people do with books these days. Perhaps I was hasty to think a travel narrative fits with online reading.

So, readers, you will have your wish. Somehow - with some nifty redesigns and rejigging - this blog will become a travel diary. It may need to migrate to a more suitable address, but it will contain my 2010 travels and beyond. And Moonwalking?

I don't need a publisher. It would be great. I could write the book and let someone else orchestrate the marketing. But then I do work in marketing. Thus, I could knock out the middle man/lady. Self-publish through one of the highly-praised self-publishing websites around. And offer as many copies to as many readers as we need. From me to you.

The next book ideas will have to wait. For now it's write this one and plan the blog for next year's little trips.

Even though I think I have a cracker of a follow-up.

Moon shooting

2009-08-29T22:05:00.008+01:00

I spent tonight staring at the moon (August's waxing gibbous). With a plastic telescope, a digital camera, two butter knives, some sellotape and a red onion, I managed to capture these:

Want to be like me - an ultra-amateur astronomer?

This is what to do:

buy a basic, plastic telescope (40x lens onwards)
wedge an onion (preferably red) inside the stand for stability
sellotape the onion to the three legs
attach two butter knives to the front leg for weight
spend a good hour trying to line a camera up with the body of the telescope
snap snap snap

This is what it should look like:

Happy snapping!

My August moon - a guest post

2009-08-29T09:41:00.010+01:00

Here's a little treat. A guest post from a writer - actually, not just a writer but a published author, a fellow moonwalker, an old tutor, a trusty editor, and a thoroughly lovely lady and good friend who's supported Moonwalking from day one.

Over to Susy...

My August moon
by Susannah Marriott

When I told Rob I couldn’t meet up with him for the August moon, he wanted to know more. Why would I turn down a chance to hear his tales of moors, madmen and moonlit mayhem? Well, I had a chance to enjoy some of my own, in a field in deepest pagan Cornwall, that’s why. At this full moon, I could be out dancing with witches.

“What are you doing this Thursday?” asked the voice on the other end of the phone. It was Steve-the-witch, as he’s fondly known.

“We’re doing this party in our field – big top, fire, bagpipes – you know the score. Will your girls play some records?”

Our three girls are all under ten, but played a selection of their 45s this time last year in the same field. These Boots are Made for Walking, Chiquitita at plus 7 (because it sounds like chipmunks), Puff the Magic Dragon – that one made two grown-ups cry, the ones who weren’t asleep in the hay on that rainy Sunday morning after a stormy night before. “What are those black things?” the girls’ friends asked, hanging about by the DJ trestle table, turning them over to find the tune on the other side.

But I digress. Our girls are staying with their grandparents for the week, so come Thursday evening off we drive in a child-free camper van. The fridge is crammed with beer and I’ve a large bag of pungent Indian snacks, which arrived by post that very afternoon from some workmates on a holy mountain in Rajasthan. We follow the setting sun into the middle of Cornwall. Through tree tunnels, past half-concealed granite manor houses, straight on past the cheese farm, no other cars in sight the whole way.

Turning onto the site, we’re greeted by a giant rat. More than man size. He – like the other animals that guard the site – was made by the trainees who work on the farm. Adults with special needs grow the organic produce in the polytunnels, look after the real animals, and build the giant sculptures and the woodland walks.

We cheer as our van makes it into the field (last year the granite hedges and mud were troublesome) and open the beers. The sun is setting, the stars are up already and the trainees are having a noisy time roaming the site. The tumulus-like hump is still there in the centre, nightlights are twinkling in the fairy grove, hanging from branches beside strings of magical holed stones. There are makeshift tents and painted live-in vehicles, dreadlocks on dads and tired toddlers in pushchairs. Kids are running wild, racing between the mobile blacksmith’s gear and the wooden spoonmaker’s tent, around the giant flapping flags and back around the homemade light sculptures. We miss ours...

I look for the moon, but it’s still too early; but not too early for more beer. The bellow of bagpipes tuning up eventually lures us inside the big top. Which is filled with heads on sticks. Painted oblong heads made from old cereal boxes, fixed on canes. They look spookily real, like the effigies of the deceased in Sulawesi, which they call ghosts. Rather drunkenly, I try to match up the boxes with the people who made them...

A five-piece band has been pulled together for the night. Box bass and fiddle, pipes and drum – and a caller, for this is the legendary annual barn dance. And he’s irresistible. So leprechaun-like and nimble on his feet that I grab a partner and within moments we are making a huge circle – parents, kids, helpers, trainees, friends – and ineptly following his patient calls to “Swing your partner”, “Circle to the left”, “Ladies to the middle”, “No, Ladies. To the middle; OK, keep swinging then”. What was that warning about circle-dancing on full-moon nights?

Because then we’re in eights, supposedly stripping the willow, but only three people in our eight know their lefts from their rights, and even fewer can follow their partner down the line. I’m being hurled down the row in the firm grasp of an enormous over-excited partner, and then swung back again into the sweaty box-bass strummer. And then we’re off in another circle, forwards and clap, backwards and swing your partner, polka up and down, find a new couple and make an arch...

Suddenly my dress feels too tight, the straps keep falling off, and in the earlier excitement of being child-free I must have drunk too much because my bladder is bursting.

I stumble out of the big-top, across the stubbly field and up the homemade steps into the composting toilet, which is completely dark. The lid won’t stay up and I fumble around for a handful of sawdust to throw down. If we’d brought the kids they’d have packed their torches, I grumble – and I wouldn’t be so drunk. Back outside I put my head under the tap, and a better prepared mother hands me a glass of water.

And then I see the moon. It’s a clear sky – which is startling in itself because it seems to have rained in Cornwall every day this summer – and there’s a star hanging off one side. It looks like she’s wearing a single sparkly earring. I must ask Steve about it; he works at the witch museum; he’ll know.

Later, once the sound system has been unplugged and the instruments packed away, the trainees have shaken hands politely, and the elderly mothers finally finished dancing to Status Quo (“It’s sex for the feet, Susy – this is the only sex I get these days”) – I finally get to sit down with Steve, around the fire. It’s his birthday by a few minutes. Waving away the dogs and the acrid smoke (the huge logs were once part of a jetty and have been well-treated), we chat about pellars and fairy lore, and about witchcraft writers here in Cornwall. There’s talk of Steve’s infamous bulging pockets, and the mayhem they caused at the Merry Maidens with the antlers – all the kind of stuff Rob was hoping I’d write about.

But Steve doesn’t know which planet it is after all, and suddenly everyone is offering up half-baked theories about bright stars and planets, and I’m too tired to think, what with all the drink and the circling and my tight bodice – and I’m missing my girls too much. It’s time to lie down. Next year, we say, as we head back to the van with its sparkly strings of fairy lights – next year, Steve, we’ll make sure the girls are around and they’ll play their best tunes, we promise.

Bison found on the moon!

2009-08-25T21:17:00.006+01:00

A lot of people have been celebrating the moon today. It's 400 years to the day since Galileo - the old astronomy chap with the bad eyes - started to get into all sorts of trouble with the Church. On 25th August 1609, the Venetian all-rounder showed his telescope (a variation of the Dutch Trunk) to merchants. Soon, this scientific marvel would bring Galileo fame and imprisonment. Today is the anniversary of an event that changed human existence.

Tomorrow, however, is the 174th anniversary of something much funnier, warmer, and something far more attuned to my book. I love things like this. I mean, fire-wielding biped beavers. If we're talking genius...

In August 1835, a young John Herschel - son of respected astronomer and man of speculation, William - reported his observations of the moon's surface, as seen through his "telescope of vast dimensions" from the Cape of Good Hope. When I say the young Herschel reported his findings, the New York Sun actually, kindly, reported them for him.

And these are some of the extraordinary sightings of which they told, in sentences so lyrical and polyclausal that they almost sucked me in too:

(from Wednesday 26th August 1835 - Day 2 of the New York Sun's serialisation)

"A beach of brilliant white sand, girt with wild castellated rocks, apparently of green marble, varied at chasms, occurring every two or three hundred feet, with grotesque blocks of chalk or gypsum, and feathered and festooned at the summit with the clustering foliage of unknown trees, moved along the bright wall of our apartment until we were speechless with admiration."
"The water, we obtained a view of it, was nearly as blue as that of the deep ocean, and broke in large white billows upon the strand."

wait for it...

"...we beheld continuous herds of brown quadrupeds, having all the external characteristics of the bison, but more diminutive than any species of the bos genus in our natural history."
"The next animal perceived would be classed on earth as a monster. It was of a bluish lead color, about the size of a goat, with a head and beard like him, and a single horn, slightly inclined forward from the perpendicular."

wait for it...

"A species of grey pelican was the most numerous; but a black and white crane, with unreasonably long legs and bill, were also quite common."

Intrigued readers snapped up copies of the paper like it had just reported bison on the moon. Oh. Of course none of it is real. Like Edgar Allan Poe's 1844 account of Atlantic balloon crossings in "The Balloon-Hoax", Herschel's articles are fanciful. Too good to be true. And, best of all, nothing to do with John Herschel. Or William Herschel, who would have been proud of such fantasies. These are the writings of a Cambridge-educated reporter called Richard Adams Locke (or, rather ironically, so the story goes).

On the third day, The Sun reported my favourite part of the hoax. It involves little, ugly, furry creatures. Oh, and man-bats. Tune in next time...

Or read this I guess. I implore you: if you have ten minutes, read these articles. They're great. If you're going to dupe people - thousands of people - this is how to do it.

image above: Great Moon Hoax lithograph of "ruby amphitheatre" from New York Sun, 1835

Extreme moon metal

2009-08-22T20:04:00.006+01:00

Through research for Moonwalking, I've stumbled upon several full-moon-named shops, websites, celebrations, groups, stories and more that continue to reappear. If I speak to people about the full moon, they tell me tales of tides and insomnia; however, if I ask internet search engines, this is what they tell me.

Full Moon Party, Thailand
It's a way of getting drunk...

Once a month, by the light of the full moon, lots of twenty-somethings seem to travel to a beautiful Thai Island called Koh Phangan, make their way to the long, soft, sunbaked sands of Haad Rin Beach, and imbibe enough alcohol to ensure a stomach-pumping next morning. From the YouTube video I've just watched through my fingers, the moon doesn't really matter; its good name is just abused for the sake of a regular drinking day.

Full Moon Festival, Germany
It's a way of getting drunk...

"An experience of psychedelic trance and culture." Not my cup of tea, unlike a cup of tea, which is my cup of tea. But I'm sure psychedelic trance has its charms. The dance festival usually takes place around the July full moon, but this year it's been cancelled due to environmental laws. Again, I don't believe the full moon plays a major role in the festival, but it's there if anyone falls backwards or needs to locate east.

Full Moon Productions
Not moon metal, extreme metal

Full Moon Productions is a Colorado-based extreme metal label and distribution company. I'd never listened to extreme metal before so, as research, I just popped a little Willow Wisp on. I plumped for one of the cheerier numbers, "Bastard". Willow Wisp appear to sit somewhere between Nirvana, The Smiths and Pearl Jam. From "Bastard", I managed to exhume the following lyrics #bastard bath without little swans#. I can't guarantee this is 100% accurate, but swans appeared somewhere. I feel Full Moon Productions are using the dark, horror associations of the full moon. Other Willow songs include "I watched you drown" and that other little sing-a-long "Sodomized by God".

So most full-moon events are inspired by alcohol and horror - under a full moon, or with a picture of a full moon. But sometimes there's something deeper. A mystery connection that a quick internet search doesn't solve. All to do with morris dancers (so again it's music, dancing and getting drunk - but in a far nicer fashion).

Full Moon Morris
The morris people of South Wales

When I was a boy, I used to enjoy watching the morris dancers of Waltham Abbey ting and ding around the maypole, ribbons swirling and twisting, accordions being squeezed for full volume, for the town's traditional community day.

Sadly, that doesn't happen any more.

So when I found Full Moon Morris on the internet earlier in the year, I had to investigate further. What did I find? In 1997, six dancing folk decided to get out more and learned three dances to perform in Ireland that Easter. The group gained popularity and others joined. Soon, the group was 20-strong and attracting morris people from around the south of Britain.

And the name? Now here's where I'm intrigued.

...we take our name from a small hamlet near to Cross Keys in the South Wales valleys. There's not much to see of the hamlet now, but the Full Moon name lives on in a roundabout on the nearby A467 dual carriageway!

I've researched Cross Keys, South Wales. I've read about the existing roundabout. There's the Full Moon pub nearby. Near the Full Moon Centre. But why full moon? Sadly, when I spent the June full moon in Carmarthenshire, I had no time to meet Full Moon Morris. So I'm going to start my research proper now and see what I can find.

Perhaps there's a William Lower connection. Perhaps the people of Cross Keys used to listen to ye olde extreme metal under full moon. Or perhaps there's a horror connection.

The hunt begins.

Moonwalking - almost interviewing myself

2009-08-18T20:15:00.005+01:00

My last couple of months of Moonwalking (the whole book experience; as opposed to 'moonwalking', walking by full moon) have led me to fascinating places and lovely people. While the places charge me with material for the book, the people help filter my experiences and research into this blog. And recently I've been asked a few questions at talks, on walks, in pubs, on the phone, over email, in toilets that I promised to answer here. So, finally, here goes.

Why moonwalking? Why not sun walking?

Ahhh, the most common question. And the one with most answers. Moonwalking is nightwalking with the joy of the full moon to accompany me.

The full moon is the theme because it means so much to so many people - and provided me with experiences to help get me over a bit of heartbreak this time last year. I enjoy nightwalking - a fresh-air stroll under starry skies can open one's eyes to another world (not deadly, bloody, scary, violent but often serene, freeing and packed with happenings).

Sun walking has been done. It's called "walking". I wanted to experience lunar living and write a travel narrative that deviates from the traditional meeting-lots-of-people-in-museums. Daylight is predictable. By night things happen. Odd things.

What do you do the rest of the month?

Work in a full-time writing job. And read, research, plan, book B&Bs and hostels, write articles, meet and speak to other writers, stare. Think. I like to read up on my next theme as thoroughly as my time allows (which often isn't enough). And sometimes I try to sleep.

What's your best experience of the year so far?

Oooh, difficult. So many great ones. For seeing the moon, it has to be viewing my first ruddy moonrise from Pendine, South Wales - never thought the moon could look so fiery and big and fierce yet enticing. For people, perhaps David and the TIP team, or John Harris and his stunning Tresillian lunar garden, or Ben the slightly creepy Highlander with his mythical water horses. Or Colin the pen enthusiast in Birmingham. Or Debbie the glamorous witch. Or Maia.

Too many to choose from.

How much of the book is written?

Um *coughs* the first chapter. Well, intro. Second draft.

Do you have a publisher?

No.

Are you ever going to write this thing?

Yes. I've just given up my job to do so.

Are you a lunatic?

Possibly.

What are you doing for this year's blue moon at New Year?

You'll have to wait and see.

Thanks to everyone who asks questions and comments on the blog and emails me. Please do continue. As I approach 3,000 readers, it's heartwarming to learn that so many people are as intrigued by the subject as I am. May the tales continue.

Hauntings in Heligan

2009-08-15T10:57:00.001+01:00

Another moon/Earth encounter

2009-08-12T22:23:00.005+01:00

Many many many years ago - before I started moonwalking - an earth-shattering explosion occured between two celestial bodies, shattering a young earth and creating a young moon. Earth's Moon.

Well, NASA's Spitzer Space Telescope's infrared detectors have recorded a similar collision between two young planets orbiting a young star.

Four billion years ago, a Mars-sized object bashed into Earth, vaporising rock and melting the Earth's surface. A chunk of rock broke away and got caught in orbit around Earth. It became our moon. Today's discovery mimics the Earth/moon encounter - this time one body the size of our moon, the other the size of Mercury. And it all happened just a few thousand years ago!

"The collision that formed our Moon would have been tremendous, enough to melt the surface of Earth," says co-author Geoff Bryden of Nasa's Jet Propulsion Laboratory (JPL) in Pasadena, California.

"Debris from the collision most likely settled into a disc around Earth that eventually coalesced to make the Moon. This is about the same scale of impact we're seeing with Spitzer."

I've decided that if a moon forms this time, I'll head up there and do a moonwalk. Here's hoping.

Lost gardens, juicy fruits and three black cats - a full moon in Cornwall

2009-08-10T20:19:00.013+01:00

Falmouth full moon

If it's possible to leave your heart somewhere, I think I've left mine in Cornwall. With my sunglasses.

Last Wednesday, when the sun began creeping over the horizon, I hopped in my dad's car (my trusty Fiesta isn't so trusty with big distances) and set off for Falmouth, Cornwall. August's full moon was calling. The Lost Gardens of Heligan were calling. And lovely John Harris, the lunar-gardening man-of-the-earth I was delighted to speak to on the phone, was waiting.

From early in 2009, I knew I wanted a biodynamics/lunar gardening adventure during my year of moonwalks. Through Susy, my friend and editor, I found Mr Harris. Three phonecalls later and this unassuming horticultural celebrity - his gardening techniques are followed around the world - met me at the gates to Tresillian House, a beautiful home (to a man who must remain anonymous) a few miles inland from Newquay, near Kestle Mill, along the A3058 from Gummows Shop (got to love Cornish place names).

Tresillian House walled garden

With a meeting booked for 3pm, Mr Harris entertained me until five-to-three with tales of lunar tutors, tradition, wisdom, and a stroll around the wonderful walled garden he's nurtured for 25 years. We picked beans and broccoli and lettuce and looked through his pristine toolshed and ate his tomatoes. He showed me the orchard with over 80 varieties of eating and cooking apples, apples shaped like pears, apples good for cider. And he explained why harvesting by full moon produces juicy fruit and veg, and when to plant root veg, and how to plant seeds the non-TV way (don't crush them!), and why watering the walled-garden crops is pointless.

He spoke, smiled, laughed and made two hours pass in a blink. Thank you, Mr Harris. The veg we picked tasted delicious, as you promised.

But no time to ponder. Next stop Heligan by full moon. And what a skin-prickling experience that turned into.

The Lost Gardens of Heligan, nr The Italian Garden

In four days I managed to meet a lunar gardener, a part-time homegrown veg lunar experimenter, lovely Candy Smit (wife of Tim, who wrote The Lost Gardens of Heligan about the rediscovery and rejuvenation of these fine gardens), a local photographer who owns a beautiful house just on the edge of Heligan; to see Tresillian House and its stunning surrounds, Heligan by day and by full moon; to lose myself by the trickling streams of pitch-black Falmouth; lose a couple of black cats; and hear a screaming lamb-like sacrifice.

And do the other things too.

Which I'll save for another time.

Oh and will post a video of Mr Harris that I managed to film (as soon as I've edited it). The man is a fine storyteller.

August full moon in pictures

2009-08-08T10:24:00.009+01:00

(in the distance) Charles the photographer's beautiful home, Heligan

sunset over Falmouth

Mr John Harris in his picturesque Tresillian House walled garden

full moon over The Lost Gardens of Heligan

Mr Harris's delicious hand-picked full moon veg

And the best till last

moonrise over Castle Beach, Falmouth

Lost in Falmouth

2009-08-06T09:06:00.002+01:00

Thomas Harriot Exhibition - Part II

2009-08-04T19:34:00.008+01:00

Part one here

I stepped in. And stepped back ten years to school days - looking around at the faded walls, the desks laid out for group work, the pale boards on which the records office had stapled Harriot's 400-year-old recordings.

Wait. Stapled?

Dear Lord! These are sacred parchments - works of a genius. You can't staple them- Oh. Oh, wait.

Two other Harriot fans watched my face drop as I approached the image I'd seen reproduced so many times in magazines, newspapers, at talks, seminars, exhibitions, in books, on television documentaries. Reproduced. Yep, once again reproduced. I'd misunderstood the content of this month-long display of the Harriot papers.

Just two other visitors. No security. No experts. No white gloves. Just me, astronomer man with glasses, and interested partner. Visions of January flashed through my head - where I mistook part of Herschel's telescope for a cement mixer. I'd clearly misread the word "original", which - on reflection - had never appeared. I'd made an astronomical faux pas.

So yes, I wandered the little classroom feeling slightly miffed and very tired and dangerously hungry. But things improved.

I flicked through the photocopies of Harriot's work and marvelled at his early sketches and maps of the lunar surface. Cartography can't be easy - intricate and detailed, skilled, slow. Lunar cartography must be very tricky - mapping from over 220,000 miles away. Lunar cartography with a 6x Dutch trunke - now there's a challenge. The moon's always moving; you can't sketch while looking at the moon; Dutch trunkes are unsteady and blurry.

first ever recorded sketch of moon's surface by Thomas Harriot, date 26 July 1609

The man was a genius.

I spent half an hour flicking through the papers and staring at the posters like a child seeing his own work on display. But 4:30pm crept up and passed and I left the exhibition still craving more. So I asked for more.

"Excuse me," I said to Gail at reception. "Could you tell me where the original Harriot papers are kept? Do you know?"

She looked up and smiled. "Yes, they're at Petworth House."

I knew that name. I'd driven past a couple of hours ago.

"Is there any way to see them? I'm writing a book, you see, and would love the opportunity to view the original documents."

"You need to write a request. To the estate. To Lord Egremont. He keeps all the original documents and you can only receive permission from him."

I think she thought that'd put me off.

"Have you got his address?" I asked.

Gail smiled. "You'll need to write here, to the county records office, and explain you would like to visit Petworth for literary reasons. Explain as much as you can - the book idea, the audience, who may publish it. The office will decide whether to put your request to Lord Egremont. We will then contact you to organise a visit."

Hm. "Excellent, I'll do that then."

And I will. I'd love to see the documents - I've never seen such important, old papers before. And having heard the Chapman lecture at Astrofest, and been chased out of Trefenty by wild dogs, I feel this could be a nice conclusion to my pursuit of Harriot.

I left the records office to splashing rain and retired to violent violin music in the Fountain Inn, after recoiling as I stepped past the Chichester Pain Clinic. All the while, images of a 17th-century, middle-aged, moneyed gent staring up at the night's sky through a slightly wonky toilet roll entertained my mind.

I felt a step closer to knowing the man.

Thomas Harriot exhibition - Part I

2009-08-01T22:27:00.007+01:00

My brother recently pointed out to me that the Thomas Harriot papers - including the first recorded sketch of the moon through a telescope - are on display at Chichester Records Office throughout August. So, with banana, cereal bar, camera and map packed, I hopped in my trusty, 15-year-old Fiesta J(e)NK (named after her number plate) and set off for West Sussex. And what a long day it turned into.

In the time it took me to circle London, Neil, Buzz and Michael would've been outside our atmosphere. Heavy rain, lane closures, solid queues, a toilet break in pitch darkness, and 20 miles in the wrong direction, meant five hours to cover just 120 miles.

I arrived at 3:30pm - the exhibition finishing at 4:30pm. Time to run.

After a dash from my car to the tourist information , I found the records office near a roundabout on the edge of town on Orchard Street. This was after half an hour of clueless wandering around the streets of Chichester, asking in random shops where Orchard Street is. "Never heard of it," said the girl in the shoe shop. Panic. I checked the paperwork I'd printed off in the morning; it was Chichester, wasn't it?

I stumbled into the records office. Drenched. "Hi," I said, as I approached the lady behind the desk. Dripping. "I'm here to see the Thomas Harriot exhibition."

She pointed to the tiny poster on the door to my left. "It's just through there."

Five hours of driving. Torrential rain. Getting lost on the road and on the pavement. No food. But here I stood - at the door to history; to the original papers of Thomas Harriot, over 400 years old. Very exciting.

But my excitement soon faded.

To be continued.

Letter from Prince Charles

2009-07-30T20:30:00.006+01:00

Exactly a month ago, I wrote to Prince Charles.

Dear Prince Charles,

Re Lunar Planting and Biodynamic Farming

You are a prince. You are next in line to the Throne. You are an advocate of the environment, organic produce, biodynamic farming and leaving the slightest carbon footprint possible in our lifetimes. Me? I’m a moonwalker.

...

I waited for a reply. Not really expecting one but hoping. Hoping for anything. Anything would do. Just to know that the letter had passed through Clarence House and come out the other side would be enough.

Then yesterday - after I'd given up hope of hearing from my main man Chazbo - a quality, textured envelope dropped through my letterbox. With a thud. I saw the post mark and reacted like Scrooge after his third visitation - throwing open the door and leaping towards the retreating postman.

But I didn't have anything to say but, "Thanks".

"From the Queen, eh? I'm still waiting for mine, the knighthood," said John.

I peeled back the envelope, unsticking the Prince's saliva, and bent back the folds, careful not to remove his fingerprints. I flattened my letter - our secret correspondence - on the dining table and read. I read the following.

Signed Mrs Claudia Holloway.

I probably shouldn't publish the whole thing. After all, it does say - in bold, scary black - at the top of the letter "Private and Confidential". But here's the gist. HRH The Prince of Wales likes my idea but is a bit busy to tell me how much.

I hope he reads the blog.

Thank you to Mrs Holloway and Clarence House. And to HRH The Prince of Wales. If you fancy coming on a moonwalk, please send me a quick email.

Making moon connections

2009-07-27T19:35:00.005+01:00

Bit of a varied post here. Lots to say - well, a little to say on lots of little things. Let's have a go.

Friends.

Throughout this year, I've met some amazing people. That sounds gooey - and I guess it is a little bit; but it's true. I haven't met one person so far who's disliked my idea to scour the country for moon-living folk with moon beliefs, moon stories, moon fetishes, moon emotions and the like.

Moonwalking has allowed me to meet lovely people and chat as an honorary moon buff. Take Saturday night, where I chatted to a couple of very nice young ladies in a bar about the project. We shared moon stories - of course, being a moonwalker I had more. They were fascinated: slightly wary me thinks but fascinated. (And like a typical young man out on a stag do in a swanky bar, I ended the conversation by handing over a business card and guiding them towards this blog.)

Some good friends I've made will remain good friends. Take David Phillips (video here) and pals from Torbay. Today David emailed me this,

The August full moon trip is nearly upon you, and I recall you were heading down to Cornwall again, with possibly a stop off in our area. Is that still your intention? If so let us know what day and time you might be here and I will arrange a welcoming committee if you wish!

Hope to see you again soon!

And this,

Near full moon over Westonzoyland

Thank you, David.

And then there's Maia - one of the nicest people I've ever met. Anyone who makes me shepherd's pie and rhubarb crumble then introduces me to the beauty of moonrise over the sea is all right in my book (this book).

Maia emailed me a link today to Yew Tree Magic, where there's a great collection of moon sketches and moon songs from Martin and Belinda Walker (nice little site if you get a chance to hop around). And where do the Walkers live? North Cornwall. Where I'm going in just over a week for some moonwalking. Moonwalking with the Walkers? I wonder.

Thank you, Maia.

Places.

This month I've visited Taverham in Norfolk, Dorchester in Dorset and the South Bank in London. Next month it's Cornwall for lunar planting and Chichester to see Thomas Harriott's original moon sketches. I thought last night how this adventure has allowed me this luxury - given me the push, the motivation, the desire.

I advise anyone to travel Britain when they get the chance. There are some real treats out there.

Love.

A messy break up kicked off Moonwalking. And it's nearly a year since that happened (how does one celebrate?). I didn't really make the connection of the feminine with the moon before starting this year. But as I've wandered through 2009, the lady moon has always been up there looking down on her Endymion. There's been no love since the last one, but there have been special people who have passed through my life.

Guess there's a few months left eh.

The News.

The last few weeks have brought the moon to the public for the first time in 40 years. The moon landing. The total solar eclipse. Thomas Harriott, William Lower and Galileo. NASA and the LRO. Rick Stroud's The Book of the Moon. Buzz Aldrin and Magnificent Desolation. And of course, indirectly, Michael Jackson (the other moonwalker). Although I've played a minor role in all this, it's nice to be a part of it. It meant I got published here.

Future.

Moonwalking is yet to secure a publisher. It has thousands of readers and many pre-orders, but no-one to print its pages. This means I've been working on ways to publish myself. And I may have come up with an idea. It involves a very busy 2010, a fair bit of confidence, a dive into some new technology - but no book. Well, sort of.

Keep checking the blog for updates on the future of Moonwalking.

Palolo worms and moonlight

2009-07-24T20:33:00.004+01:00

Although this isn't exactly a full moon fact, it's a moon fact - and a weird one. It does involve moonlight, and moonlight is an important part of my year of moonwalks. Therefore I'm giving this little fellow a chance to breed on my blog.

Talking of breeding.

The Palolo worm - a segmented, sea-dwelling thing - reproduces at fixed points during the year and these periods are synchronised with the lunar phases. Like other marine invertebrates, including corals, this odd little creature depends on moonlight to mate. During early morning of the last quarter of the moon's cycle, it appears on the surface of the water. By now it's ready for action - its backside, equipped with paddles and eyes, has broken away from its body and swum to the surface packed full of reproductive goodness. Spawning then takes places.

This occurs at the same time the following month.

Just to check that the Palolo worm is reacting to moonlight and no other aphrodisiac, scientists have teased the worms with artificial light. Turns out these creatures are so sensitive to light, they react to levels that the human eye can't even pick up.

Rick Stroud in his fascinating The Book of the Moon goes on to tell us that "the reproductive sections of the worm are considered a great delicacy" (for those with strong stomachs click here).

Please don't tell Heston Blumenthal about this delicacy or you'll find those tasty, minty refreshments Polos have gained a chewy texture and extra syllable.

Eclipsed

2009-07-22T20:04:00.008+01:00

photo of 1999 eclipse (reproduced with kind permission from Luc Viatour)

This morning across Asia something rare and spectacular decorated Earth for, in some places, six minutes and 39 seconds.

Day-time darkness.

The 22 July 2009 total eclipse of the sun was the longest of this century; there won't be another that will cast that eerie silent night-time feel (I was a mere teenager during the 1999 South West (of England) astronomical display but I remember it well: dogs barking, birds sleeping, crowds oohing, me shivering) for so long until 2132. The solar eclipse - all to do with the burning sun. Ah, not so.

Let us not forget the moon in this affair.

A solar eclipse can only happen at new moon - when the moon is positioned between the sun and Earth. At new moon we usually don't see the moon. Firstly, because the side of the sphere we cannot see is lit, and also because the sun and moon rise together, thus we'd be looking at the sun. And that would hurt. Usually, the sun, moon and Earth don't align perfectly; there's a slight degree of discrepancy. But when they do line up at new moon, we get a solar eclipse.

But why is this one so talked about?

In eclipse parlance, this was a biggie. And there are a couple of reasons why. On 22 July 2009, the moon's new-moon phase was in perigee: closest to Earth during its egg-shaped cycle. About 222,000 miles away from your window. Earth, on the other hand, was almost at its furthest from the sun (aphelion*). Combine these and the moon appears 8% larger than the sun. So pass a big moon in front of a smaller sun and it takes quite a long time for the Earth to reappear from the moon's shadow. The centre of the darkness, in the umbral shadow, stays darker longer (than the penumbral).

In August, we have a penumbral lunar eclipse in the northern hemisphere across Europe and Africa. If you're lucky, you may see a slight dimming of the moon's surface during full moon. But I'll talk about this a little nearer the time.

So remember - don't just praise the sun for a solar eclipse; the moon plays an enormous part.

Great picture of 2009 total solar eclipse that I dare not reproduce here.

*for fellow language geeks, note perihelion/perigee (closet to: sun/Earth) and aphelion/apogee (furthest from: sun/Earth). From the Greek: prefix peri meaning "near"; prefix apo meaning "away". Combine with helion for the sun and gee/gea for earth. Very nice.

Mr John Harris - a lunar gardener

2009-07-19T21:03:00.003+01:00

This evening I spoke to Mr John Harris on the phone. Mr Harris is a lunar gardener - that means he uses the phases of the moon to sow, prune and harvest, among other gardening pursuits. He is the head gardener for Tresillian House Gardens. He also plays Father Christmas in Newquay, Cornwall, near to where he lives.

I spent half an hour chatting with Mr Harris. The time disappeared in stories of decades of lunar research, six years of writing his first book, tales of Incas, North American Indians, Aborigines, sap, pruning, fruit juices, and wisdom. Like this, when I explained the scope of my project and my hope that a publisher would soon snap the book up:

You'll never succeed unless you put all your time and effort into what you do.

I hope - I really hope - to be able to visit Mr Harris at Tresillian some time during the next full moon in August. This will be in Britain's harvest period so it would be a great experience to perhaps help Tresillian harvest some of its summer crops.

If not I think I might pick some apples by moonlight.

Lunar mating habits - amphibians

2009-07-19T11:56:00.007+01:00

a happy couple (from bbc.co.uk)

Big news. Scientists have been spying on frogs, toads and newts and have discovered they mate by full moon. Before anyone starts accusing our small and slimy friends of cross-breeding or adultery, they don't all breed together. Let me word this better: scientists have discovered that by full moon amphibians find each other under moonlight and engage in reproductive practises within their species. No confusion there.

Or as the BBC reports it, "The animals use the lunar cycle to co-ordinate their gatherings, ensuring that enough males and females come together at the same time". And people say the BBC doesn't have a sense of humour.

Rachel Grant, a biologist from the Open University, was in Italy studying salamanders for her PhD a few years ago when she noticed a collection of mating toads. Under full moon. Over the following months she returned to the same spot. Same thing. Near the end of the waxing gibbous and beginning of waning gibbous phases, out came the toads to play.

"We now have evidence of lunar cycles affecting amphibians in widespread locations," says Rachel. "We definitely think that Moon phase has been an overlooked factor in most studies of amphibian reproductive timing."

16 July 1969

2009-07-16T11:31:00.005+01:00

I'm sure everyone's heard by now. Today - 40 years ago - the crew of Apollo 11 set off for their ~~240,000~~218,096-mile rocket trip to the moon.

The moon.

Just sit and think about that for a minute. I consider the drive to Falmouth, Cornwall, from north of London quite a long trip. That takes about six hours and is about 300 miles. So imagine travelling to Falmouth 800 times. At speeds of up to 25,000 mph (so you can escape Earth's atmosphere - oh yeah, forgot to say don't take the A303 this time). Imagine leaving everything that's familiar and putting your life in the hands of two colleagues you'll be spending the next ten days with.

Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin, Michael Collins. Special people. (And of course the crews of Apollos 12-17).

Launch pad 39A, Cape Canaveral, 16 July 1969. The beginning of a special few days.

We choose to go to the moon in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard, because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one that we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone, and one which we intend to win, and the others, too.

John F. Kennedy, September 12th 1962

The 1960s were great for many things. This must've been one of the greatest. And now, 40 years later, a young blonde lad with a deathwish is going on some crazy journeys of his own under full moon. There's something about the moon. Not sure what that thing is but it affects us all in different ways.

By 2020 we're planning to return to the moon. To show we still can I guess. Perhaps in the mean time we should look up a little more often and appreciate the majesty of our lunar cousin. Especially when she's full.

Next full moon. August 6/7. Look up. Go on, do it.

Rick Stroud - The Book of the Moon..a chat

2009-07-15T23:20:00.004+01:00

Rick Stroud has written The Book of the Moon. When my old editor Susannah Marriott told me this, I nearly cried. Everything you could ever want to know about the moon. In one book. Essentially, my blog in a book. Which is funny because I always thought my blog would look good as a book. But no. Wait. Rick's missed a trick. One I think I've hit (wow, this metaphor ain't easy to extend)...

Anyway, after hearing Rick speak at last night's Escape Routes talk at the South Bank Centre, I realised why The Book of the Moon isn't "Moonwalking". It's all to do with psychology.

"Moonwalking", you see, was never intended as a detailed study of what the moon is. It's a little simpler: it's a journey into Britain by moonlight in 2009; a journey around England, Scotland and Wales after dark with lots of people I've never met, through associations of murder, witches, werewolves, anger, love, sex, poetry, flora, fauna...people, life and living. It's a look at nightwalking. It's a personal journey through love and loss, accompanied by a lunar friend. It's Moonman. It's Moonwalker. It's not just rocks, explosions and seas that are called seas but are really lava - though there will be a little of that.

Rick spoke very well. He introduced a lot of fascinating lunar facts, which I'm going to look at in my next few posts. Like the one about the Palolo worm, a speciality in Samoa, which, if not eaten as a light snack, lives by the last quarter of the moon. And stories, like that of Peter Stubb, the 16th-century cattle-eating 12-year-old werewolf of Bedburg, Germany.

For an hour, Rick presented the moon to earthlings.

Too good to be true
Beside me sat two chatty ladies. One held a press pack. I couldn't believe my luck - clearly she was covering Rick's talk (two days before the 40th anniversary of Apollo 11's launch) for a national paper. What an opportunity to pitch my story - my moonwalk adventures. Front page of The Sun - "Nutter walks streets by moonlight in search of nutters".

I wondered how best to make my move. It soon became clear. I'd ask a terribly educated moon question in the Q&As following the talk. But what? Ah ha, Dr Lieber's Lunar Effect. Surely Rick and I are the only people in the room to have read it. And Rick's already mentioned his disbelief in the biological tides theory. I'll dig a little deeper. That'll hook the hacks.

So I asked my question and discussed Dr Lieber with Rick across a room of perhaps 40 people. Eyes burning through me, my heart beating too fast for a healthy person. My friends turned and smiled. I went on to help Rick answer another question from the floor about NASA's return to the moon. The talk finished. Now just had to reel them in.

"So," I said, turning to the pretty girl to my side, "do you mind if I ask who you write for?"

"Sorry," she replied, very confused.

"Um, saw you had a press pack. Wondered who you write for."

She looked to her friend and giggled - probably not a good sign, I thought.

"I write for myself. I work here and thought I'd pop along."

I pointed to her papers. "But the press pack."

"It was the only thing I could find to write on."

I had to smile. So I wasn't going to be the lead story in tomorrow's papers. But I did get a chance to chat to a couple of lovely ladies about my adventures and they insisted I get it all published so they could read about everything. They were especially taken with the bra-walking idea. As a lot of people seem to be.

I spoke to Rick after the talk and we joked about the moon - what, there's nothing geeky about moon jokes. He's invited me for a chat near his Chelsea home in the autumn. "Meet in the arts club in Chelsea, or perhaps the gents club with the cigars and the neckerchiefs"...or something like that. I didn't tell him I'd be Tubing it down from Essex. "Ah, yes, the old cigar club - know it well. Teddy still visit?"

So here's to more moon chats and book talks. It's tiring, very tiring. But good good fun. Tripping up the steps into the South Bank Centre wasn't fun. The rest was.

Here's to future trips.

London Literature Festival - with Moon Man

2009-07-12T21:38:00.007+01:00

The Memory Band at Southbank Centre

Last night I visited the South Bank in London for the London Literature Festival 2009. In the early evening, the writers who contributed to the nature book Caught By The River - a combination of wonderful musings about land, sea, rivers, sky, fishing, daydreaming, birdspotting and so on - were due to read from their collection of articles on all things outdoorsy and green.

After the polite hubbub quietened to a polite anticipation, the writers appeared, spoke and entertained one by one.

After the show I chatted to Robin and Jeff, who run the CBTR blog and edited the book together. We discussed the joys of rural living and CBTR's journey from blog for friends and fishing community to published hardback. And then talk turned to Moonwalking.

Lots of people love lots of things about the moon. This is my big discovery of 2009. To pitch Moonwalking, all I need to say is, "I'm writing a book about the full moon". From then I'm just nodding, smiling, enjoying. Like this:

Me: ...full moon.
Them: Wow.
Me: (smiling, paternal) Thank you.
Them: So...so you go out once a month-
Me: (nodding) Yep-
Them: And walk...by moonlight-
Me: (nodding) Around Britain-
Them: Ha (grinning) - that's great, really nice. What a lovely subject.
Me: (embarrassed, paternal) Thank you.
Them: So...you go and see what's happening under full moon-
Me: Yep. I've been all around the country. In winter storms. In a bra. And across tors and moors and freezing by a lake and climbing up to hill forts to find Romans-
Them: Ha-
Me: (a little confused but enjoying) Thank you.

It's a privilege to be writing about -and living with - such a universal subject.

July full moon from Albany, New York!

2009-07-10T22:29:00.006+01:00

I'm very excited.

This is an important post for two reasons. Firstly, it's my 100th Moonwalking post since December 2008, when this crazy adventure began. And secondly - as a celebration of my ton (and no, it's not a telegram from the Queen, though I am expecting a letter from Prince Charles any day now) - I'm honoured to feature a little piece of film from a man from America.

Through Twitter, I've met a chap from Albany, New York, called Louis Suarato. He's an amateur astronomer and pretty handy with a camera, as you're about to see. "I'm someone who is always looking up, to the point of missing things on the ground, such as oncoming traffic," he wrote to me a couple of days ago. (I haven't heard since.)

We chatted about moonrise and our different experiences of this spectacular sight and Louis revealed he'd made a short film of moonrise in front of the Taconic Mountains, a range of the Appalachians along New York's border with Vermont, Massachusetts and Connecticut. It was of July's full moon. I couldn't resist. I had to see it.

And very kindly, Louis emailed it over to me.

"American Indians named the July moon the 'Full Buck Moon' and the 'Thunder Moon'. That moon, coincidentally, was followed by thunder storm."

The internet has some problems - we all know that. But I feel social media is one of its high points, a saving grace. Through Twitter, email and blogging, I've connected with a very friendly man who's allowed me to show a lovely video he made of the soft, autumnal-looking full moon climbing through the clouds above a mountainous backdrop.

Thank you, Louis.

NB To find Louis - his excellent photos, great historical facts and entertaining musings - he goes by the name @LouisS on Twitter. The man is well worth a follow.

Taverham Mills - one bite of note

2009-07-07T21:44:00.011+01:00

Does the moon's phase affect angling?

Ok, so this wasn’t the most scientific of studies. To prove or disprove whether the full moon has a positive or negative influence on fishing bites, strikes and catches, I’d have to fish many many times with all conditions exactly the same but for the moon phase. Not going to happen. But I have returned from Taverham Mills, Norfolk, with a personal moon fishing result. And theory.

Clearly the full moon has a hugely adverse effect on night fishing for carp.

(it's certainly not that I'm a rubbish fisherman)

Not one bite.

Well, that’s a lie. Not one bite from a fish. But I do have a many swollen red patches across my body where the midges and mossies found the entrance to our bivvy. Along with the beetle who tried to nest in my ear. And the spindly spiders.

This was my July moonwalk – more a moon-fish than walk, though at midnight I did stroll around the beautiful grounds of the lake and take in the ivory splendour of the incredibly-bright full moon.

Lily Moon

Although we didn’t catch a fish in 15 hours, the experience – including some brotherly bonding – provided another amazing set of stories. Whether we blanked because the glowing orb overhead was startling the fish or whether we just used the wrong bait in the wrong swim on the wrong day, who can tell?

Near Silver Birches

Yes, by daylight at new moon I caught three ‘clonkers’ (I’ve picked up the lingo); but does that tell us fishing by new moon produces a better yield or that perhaps that day we were luckier, or the fish were a little more stupid? (Not Carpy – he was a canny fellow.)

Thunderstorms then perfect blue skies. A man with bookend teeth and a penchant for night fishing without a rod. A close, and very nearly wet, encounter with a rogue rabbit. The fifth beetle. Rumours of 35lb monsters. Moonrise. And a race against the elements.

Stories that must wait for the book.

Theatre under the stars - and moon

2009-07-05T21:44:00.007+01:00

Quick pit stop.

I'm back home for a good night's sleep after a trip to Dorset to hunt for some lunar planters. Sadly I didn't speak to Denise and Ian Bell, farmers at Foxholes Farm in Littlebredy, but I've heard from Denise and hopefully can pay another visit soon. When I've given more than a night's warning about my plans.

But the Dorset trip provided another treat. And this has been happening a lot - my travels giving me the opportunity to visit old friends in new places, or take friends with me on moon adventures. Turns out the moon's a great conversation piece, regulator, organiser and reuniter.

Two good friends from Falmouth (where this whole crazy notion of writing a book about the full moon was conceived), Jason and Kate, invited me to see them in theatre. Not just theatre - open-air, Cornish, bruising theatre: the sort where men dress as women, women dress as boys, and actors bash into each other and turn purple for their art.

Jason Squibb showing the size of carp he thinks I'll catch Monday night

I set off Saturday, in hope that night I'd see the almost-full moon rise behind the set of Miracle Theatre's grand adaptation of Moliere's Tartuffe. And, on cue, just as the final scenes drew to a close and the dastardly Tartuffe got his comeuppance, the crisp ellipse of a 95% waxing gibbous rose behind the trees.

Full moon over Maumbury Rings

The play was great (touring until end of August) . The setting - the Roman Amphitheatre at Maumbury Rings - perfect. And the clear, starry night with glowing orb I've become very attached to topped the evening off. Icing on the astronomical cake.

But as I say, this is merely a pit stop.

Tomorrow I head to Taverham Mills with my brother for a spot of fishing under the stars. And hopefully the full moon. But quite possibly some rain. Some say we'll catch nothing; others tell us we'll catch the biggest 'lurking' carp in the lake.

Bivvie - check
Rods - check
Bite alarms - check
Reading - check
Knowledge of fishing - void

Follow our 24 hours of fishing here www.twitter.com/waxingmoonman

July - Moon Month

2009-07-02T23:04:00.004+01:00

July is a big month for the moon. Remove July from history and you lose some of the most important lunar events ever recorded by man. Here’s a rundown of the month and the moon and a little insight into how various celebrations in July 2009 are keeping MoonMan busy in the next few weeks.

July moonwalk

After two moonwalks in June – one which involved being chased by furious dogs in Wales, the other which had me in a bra – July promises to be a more placid affair. It’s all to do with fish.

Taverham Mills, Norfolk. Monday 6th July. Overnight. Twenty-four hours of fishing by the light of the full moon (and the light of the sun) with my brother and any other hardy souls who are fishing the lake after the weekend. Why? Because it’s one of those rumours that’s intrigued me since the beginning of my adventures.

Lake and river fish don’t bite under full moon. Discuss. Or spend a full moon by the river’s edge and wait for a bite. Men versus slimy fish. I’m sure carp realise how humans avoid fishing around full moon, so let’s go surprise them. One catch will do. I don’t have much confidence.

Lunar planting

Last week I wrote to Prince Charles. The Prince of Wales, you see, is a supporter of biodynamic farming. He believes – like many other farmers and planters – that crop yields and crop quality relies a lot on the moon’s phases. All to do with moisture and gravity as far as I understand – the moon’s gravitational pull drawing Earth’s waters towards it.

On Saturday 4th July I’m travelling to Dorchester where I hope to speak to the Bells (Denise and Ian). They own a farm a few miles from town. On that farm they have some crops – and they plant those crops when the moon is in the optimum position, according to lunar charts. Hocus pocus or nice spuds? I hope to find out at the weekend by sampling some carrots etc.

Walking on the moon

You may remember, or you may have heard, that on 16th July 1969 man walked on the moon. 40 years ago this month. Two men, lots of bouncing around. Today, the feat seems to have lost some of its majesty – with flippant remarks like “lots of bouncing around”. Landing two men on the moon was huge. Travelling nearly 250,000 miles there and back in just a few days pushed human kind beyond any realm of believability; in fact, it pushed us into science fiction. And still to this day many consider the moon landing an elaborate hoax.

This is the month for my own lunar explorations.

Lunar Reconnaissance Orbiter (LRO)

NASA’s LRO is currently keeping the moon company and taking lots of pictures of its surface. Through July, NASA’s little box of experimental equipment will be surveying the lunar surface before giving its life and launching, kamikaze-style, into the moon dust. What will the explosion throw up? Nobody knows.

But I’ll be keeping all my readers up-to-date with the latest findings.

17th century lunar observing

In June, outside the farmhouse of Trefenty, baying hounds (wow, this gets more dramatic with each retelling), their jowls dripping blood, chased me out of their gates into the winding dirt tracks of rural Carmarthenshire. I’d only popped in to find out a little about William Lower, the Trefenty lad with a penchant for the moon.

Lower and English learned fellow Thomas Harriot were good friends – possibly closest friends and certainly scientific brethren. The letters they exchanged reveal just how exciting and advanced the newfound hobby (of the rich) astronomy was in England and Wales at the time. Harriot is now remembered as the man who first recorded a sketch of the moon’s mottled surface on 26th July 1609.

This and other sketches are on display at Chichester from 1 August. These are history – slightly crumpled, sepia history. I implore anybody near Chichester in August to pay a visit. The British have done some special things in their time – and being the first (that’s before Galileo – the Father of Modern Astronomy) to record lunar observations through a telescope ranks pretty high.

It’s going to be a busy moon-packed month. It’s probably my make or break month. If I can’t attract a publisher in a month dominated by my subject, I should give up now. Never. I vowed to bring lunar living to the masses.

Now’s my chance.

Mr Steve Bales and the decision that made history

2009-06-29T22:10:00.004+01:00

In 1962, John F. Kennedy made a famous speech about rocketing to the moon by the end of the decade. On 16 July, 1969, the dream began to come true (just in time!) as three young chaps – Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin and Michael Collins – set off for their lunar voyage. What a dream. What a statement. What a decision.

But did you know touchdown on the lunar surface almost didn’t happen? It all came down to another decision. Made by one man. And that man wasn’t Mr Armstrong.

In the secured room at Mission Control in Houston, Texas, sat young Steve Bales. Playing his part in the biggest journey ever undertaken by humans, Steve had to say something. Why? Because his boss had a couple of little questions for him about the alarm that had lit up in Neil and Buzz’s Lunar Module (Eagle) cabin.

With just 20 seconds until “Dead Man’s Zone” – the ten-second period where Eagle’s descent speed to the moon’s surface would be so great that if they tried to abort and pull up they’d run out of fuel – senior flight controller Gene Kranz asked the question. Is the alarm serious? Should we abort?

So Steve had some responsibility. Two lives. And the dreams – and reputation – of a nation.

Abort?

“We’re ‘Go’ on that alarm,” said Bales.

It was the best decision young Steve ever made.

Michael Jackson...the (almost) original moonwalker

2009-06-26T16:53:00.005+01:00

MICHAEL JACKSON IS DEAD. WACKO JACKO. MR MOONWALKER. SADLY PASSED.

Michael Jackson - a man known for moonwalking (walking backwards strangely rather than walking under full moon) - is being celebrated at LIVERPOOL STREET STATION tonight at 6PM. Lots of people - lots of walking backwards - big celebration. No moon.

Hope to see you there. Hope to be there.

I sent this press release to local press a couple of months ago...

ONE GIANT LEAP FOR MOONWALKER

For Neil Armstrong it was a low-gravity sortie from the Apollo 11 lander. For Michael Jackson it was the dance move that propelled his career into the stratosphere. But for Waltham Abbey writer Robert Self-Pierson, Moonwalking is a means of experiencing a magical transfiguration of the everyday world.

That's one moonwalker down. Two to go.

Moonrise

2009-06-25T22:02:00.005+01:00

Here's a little time-lapse video I knocked up from footage I took on the open beach at Pendine, Carmarthenshire, when I was hunting for Trefenty last month in South Wales. I'd like to dedicate it to young Dilys - who must remember never to tell anyone what sort of cheese the moon is really made from. Ever. It's a special secret.

Althouth blurry, I love how the moon goes from a burning ochre to a chilly cream in, what on the night, was about two hours. And how the moon shows a soft arc in the middle month, skimming the sea on its journey, rather than the steep winter climb that I watched at the beginning of my year. Whether I get a book out of this or not, it doesn't seem to matter when I'm reminded of experiences like this.

A blistering pace

2009-06-24T08:55:00.016+01:00

Sunset on the longest day 2009 - Firth of Forth

In a year of spur-of-the-moment decisions, signing up for the Edinburgh MoonWalk at the beginning of the year seemed nothing special. Why not sign up for a marathon that’s named after my book? I thought. So I did. Then I convinced two good friends and old writing buddies to join me – Christophe and Miles.

We had about six months to train. So I did. The MoonWalk’s only a walking marathon, I thought (I had to stop thinking out loud) – don’t need to train so intensively. So I didn’t. I rambled and strolled up and down rivers, under sun and moon, in rain and heat. I burned, I drowned. I enjoyed, got bored, tired. I went through a whole range of emotions, from a to b.

Two weeks before the race (“Don’t worry, it’s not a race,” as someone said to a friend on the night), Christophe had to drop out for personal reasons. Just me and Miles then. By last Friday, I’d learned the extent of Miles’s training.

He jogged once. Quite a few miles. But once.

So what did we do to prepare for this marathon? For 26.2 miles of circling grand Edinburgh? We stayed in a hostel and went on a pub crawl until the early hours of Saturday morning. Not wise. Not wise when at midnight on Saturday, your body is expected to cover a huge distance over many hours. Turns out stomachs don’t like walking through the night.

Stomachs, thighs, groin, calves, lower back, upper back, middle back, shoulders, toes, tops of feet. Body. None of it's really keen on that level of nightwalking.

Here is a pictorial account of the weekend.

How not to prepare for a marathon weekend. But how to succeed through perseverance, dedication, and breaking through the pain barrier.

before

during

after

recovery Well done to everyone involved! Excellent achievement and a good few million added to the cancer research kitty. It was a great MoonWalk.

And a huge THANK YOU to everyone who sponsored and supported me and voted for me and helped me win this award. I'd like to thank...all of you.

Until the next one.

The Proclaimers, 26.2 miles and many breasts later...

2009-06-22T22:12:00.004+01:00

Just a quick post to say we did it. WE (I and Mr(s) Miles Taylor) DID IT! We completed the Edinburgh MoonWalk and now I'm home, shattered and ready for a good night's sleep in my own bed. (Hostels are good fun - but it's always a little disconcerting to share a room with strangers.)

I'll write a proper post tomorrow. And yes, I'll put the pictures up. Quite interesting - not many people recognised we were wearing full moons.

Lady 1: Good name, isn't it, the Full Moon.

Lady 2: Yeah, cos it's at night.

(They look up - not knowing the nearly-new-moon set about three hours ago)

Lady 1&2: So where is it?

Check tomorrow for a little Proclaimers story, a little pub crawl story, and a painful but hugely worthwhile and fun MoonWalking story, and to discover how all this could be coming to a cinema near you soon...

Moon Man's Moon Friends

2009-06-18T19:58:00.004+01:00

Final thought before I depart for MoonWalk number 1 (but moonwalk number 7). Funny how many people have wanted to get involved with my year of full-moon walks.

In January, as I made my way north from the Royal Observatory to Waltham Abbey (wow, seems a long time ago), my brother and his girlfriend volunteered to join me. February I walked the canals of Birmingham alone - but for the company of the Winter Storm (which, as we all remember, nearly destroyed the world).

The Daily Paper, Feb 2009

WINTER STORM NEARLY DESTROYS WORLD/MIDLANDS

In March I stayed with Christophe, an old writing colleague, when I ventured to East Sussex in a hunt for violence. April and I took old school friend Sam to the North York Moors and beautiful Whitby for a Dracula tour and spooky stumble around Whitby Abbey's grounds. Then, just last month, Matty - best friend - came down to see me in Dartmoor, and joined the Devil's Pub Crawl for a night.

In June I crossed the border into Wales and spent a wonderfully lonely night on the beach near Pendine, Cartmarthen.

Tomorrow, Miles - another writer - is coming to Edinburgh with me to experience lingerie-living for a night. When he heard he'd get the opportunity to relive her cross-dressing ways, she couldn't resist. No, he's a good lad and his company (and support) will be much needed on our 26-miler. 26 miles, hopefully 26 with Miles. You go, girl!

July's full moon is a brotherly fishing thing.

August's is a Cornish treat with lots of lovely ladies and a part of the world (so nearly destroyed by that dastardly Winter Storm) that I love.

September is a literary feast in the Lake District and I may have a couple of volunteers already.

And the rest of the year - from July onwards really - relies on my body surviving Saturday's "Full Moon" in Scotland. It's funny, this walk falls on the new moon (or very small crescent). They couldn't have planned it any worse. Except that it's on the longest day of the year. Couldn't have planned it better.

Wish me luck!

Moon Man Cometh - a conclusion

2009-06-16T21:05:00.003+01:00

Here we go. Last one. My favourite.

In May I visited David Phillips (now famous because of this blog - in moonwalking circles that is). We walked around Dartmoor - up, down, left, right, day, night, fields, hills, stone circles, caves, beaches. You name it, we might've seen it.

I filmed a lot of my fifth moonwalk.

"The Moon Man Cometh"

Here's Part 1
Here's Part 2

And here - finally - is Part 3. But it's not just any old Part 3, it's Part 3 plus a director's commentary. I warn you now - the commentary is horribly self-indulgent (yet mildly amusing). But it ties the story together (in a way) and entertains (in a looser way). You be the judge.

The Moon Man Cometh (without commentary)

The Moon Man Cometh (with commentary)

There's a wrong way to research

2009-06-14T18:57:00.006+01:00

Last week in Carmarthen Library I spoke to a librarian who couldn't have been any more Welsh. His name was something like GwythenJonesyddhllangogogoch. He was lovely - a lovely, helpful Welsh librarian (there can't be many of them - based on my experience of librarians, not Welsh people). Gwy (for short) helped track down Sir William Lower for me. After an hour, we'd found several Lower references in the "Carmarthenshire Antiquarian Society and Field Club" records.

But Gwy started our investigation with Google. Trusty Google.

SEARCH: william lower trefenty

RESULTS:

1. The Carmarthen Historian

"Ah, I've already checked that one..."
"Oh," said Gwy, "I seeeee."

2. Carmarthenshire County Survey

"Hmm, interesting, but not-"
"Oh," said Gwy, "I seeeeee."

3. The Alchemy Web Site

"Not sure..."
"Oh..."

"Ahh," said Gwy, still not looking me in the face, "how about this one?"

4. Moonwalking - Discovering Britain by Full Moon

"That's actually-"
"There you go-ah, 'Trefenty', 'Sir William Low-er' - this could be-"
"Erm, Gwy, that's actually my website. I'm writing a book about the moon."

WARNING: Don't research using your own research - reproducing second-hand falsehoods is bad enough (see Wikipedia), but when the source of the inaccuracies is your own early research, consider your credibility gone.

Win the moon!

2009-06-11T20:15:00.003+01:00

This competition is one you must enter. It's one I must win, but one I'm allowing other people to enter. Nearly 40 years from the month Neil and Buzz first put human foot on the Moon, New Scientist is offering a "scrap of genuine moon rock" to the person who can do the following.

You will doubtless know the words relayed from Neil Armstrong when he stepped off Apollo 11's lunar module and onto the moon itself: "One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind."

Can you think of something better for him to have said - something even more memorable, or perhaps something funnier?

I know. Something funnier than Neil's little quip: not easy. OK, they clearly didn't mean "funnier", as that implies what Neil said was funny. It wasn't. It was profound - and fluffed. Profoundly fluffed. But it could never be confused with "funny".

If he wanted to be funny, he could've said:

"Oi, Buzz, watch this" - before lowering his astropants and mooning to the world

Or...

"One small step for man, one giant leap for a dwarf" - before lowering his astropants and mooning to the world

Or...

"Sh1t, wish I'd brought that fleece"

My work colleague suggested the following:

"Right, everyone, remember where we parked"

I laughed out loud most of the afternoon. Thanks, Al! (I may put that in for you)

So I'm going to enter this competition with something. Let me think what. It should be pithy, well-observed, memorable, as funny as Neil's. Not easy. Perhaps it could be something about Buzz being named "Buzz". Perhaps it could be a bad impression - or better, a bad-taste impression. Like Hitler (he was always doing bad-taste impressions).

This is what I've come up with.

"Big, innit?"

Send the scrap of moon rock this way!

And he's back

2009-06-08T19:50:00.012+01:00

How unexpected.

It always surprises me that so much can happen in such a poorly planned, last-minute trip. But such was Moonwalk No6, "The Search for Trefenty".

Here's the full-moon weekend in pictures. Sort of.

This is me. Somewhere, tucked around the corner behind me as the River Taf tapers away from Carmarthen Bay, is Trefenty - home of the demon dogs of hell that tried to damage my car. Worse: my car had a puncture so they were actually vandalising Dad's car. But I found Trefenty! Home of Sir William Lower. I'm guessing the demon dogs are a recent addition.

This is Dylan Thomas's writing shed in Laugharne, Carmarthenshire. Not a bad pad. I'd decided to watch moonrise here, unless I got a better offer...

This was Mr Thomas's view.

This sky at Laugharne convinced me there must be a better offer for moonrise. With a window in the cloud appearing to the east, I drove to the south coast and parked at Pendine, near Llanmiloe. Could I be lucky enough to see the moon show her face above the sea?

Yes. I think it was my favourite moon of the year. Probably because I didn't think I had a chance of seeing it. Gales, torrential downpours, floodings forecast. No accommodation. Trefenty seeming fictional. Then some wild dogs chased me. But this beautiful moon brought everything together.

I even wrote a poem that may appear in the book. I try not to write poetry - it's unfair on my reader. But sitting, waiting for moonrise in the chilly air of a never-ending beach, it seemed appropriate. I'm sure Mr Thomas would've written one. Under Milk Sky?

Thank yous
Oh - a couple of thank yous. Firstly, Steve and Pat at Manordaf B&B in sleepy St Clears, who put me up last minute after their long journey back from a wedding. Now that's service!

And if you ever have the pleasure of visiting Laugharne, you must eat here; it's a law they have. Actually, it may well be the only open eatery in town on a Sunday evening - but even with competition, I doubt you'd beat it for food, service and atmosphere...and angry, very-drunk Welshmen spilling wine on each other. "A lively cafe serving lip-smacking fresh produce," says Coast Magazine. Good description. Thanks to Jenny and friend for accommodating a damp moonwalker.

And best of luck to Glen on his cycles. Keep...cycling.

And he's off

2009-06-06T14:29:00.002+01:00

I had planned to write a smashing blog this morning and put up a fantastic video to accompany it. But it's taken me three hours to find Trefenty in Carmarthenshire, where I'm spending the weekend, and I still haven't got accommodation booked. But I must be on my way.

This is how not to travel. Our next lesson will be how not to write.

Until next week, I'll be on Twitter!

The hunt for Sir William and his Dutch trunke begins...

The Welsh astronomers

2009-06-04T21:46:00.009+01:00

On Saturday, I'm going to drive to Carmarthenshire in Wales because it's a full moon on Sunday and I want to know more about Sir William Lower.

Around 1609-1610, Lower was observing the Moon in Traventi, south Wales (Lower was in Wales, not the Moon), while a couple of hundred miles away, a man whose name has been all over the news recently was making his first crude sketches of our cratered friend.

Thomas Harriot has become a celebrity in the last few months.

Here he is poised to eat a strawberry

Rumour has it Mr Harriot sketched the Moon, through his "Dutch trunke" (a telescope, honest), on 26 July 1609. That's a few months before our old friend Galileo Galilei did the same thing.

But what about William Lower and the Carmarthenshire astronomers?

Well, at the moment I know just a little. At Astrofest 2009, I listened to a riveting talk given by Dr Allan Chapman, the scientific historian. Of course that was a few months ago and since I've forgotten most of it. But I remember the salient points.

William Lower and his 17th-century Welsh colleagues played a very important role in mapping the moon. They were in correspondence with Thomas Harriot, right up to - and I'd guess through - the time Harriot made (and, it seems, didn't file very well) his sketches. The first of an astronomical body through a telescope.

Here's what Lower wrote to Harriot on February 6, 1610, likening his view of the moon through his telescope...

unto the description of coasts, in the dutch bookes of voyages. In the full she appears like a tarte that my cook made me last weeke. Here a vain of bright stuffe, and there darke.

So the Welsh astronomers helped greatly yet remain largely unknown. Let my investigations begin!

(Quick story - Thomas Harriot is also credited with bringing the potato back from the Americas (eat your core out, Sir Walter). And designing the first crinkle oven chip (that's a joke). But he also has another first pencilled beside his name. The first man to die from cancer caused by tobacco - keen as he was on the new plant brought back on his travels. How much of this is true, who knows? But he sounds like a bit of a character. I mean who else would pose for a portrait holding a strawberry? The lemon.)

Moon Man on TWITTER

2009-06-01T22:17:00.003+01:00

I used to hate blogging. Now I'm addicted. I hated the idea of Twitter. Now I've signed up for an account. A friend tells me I'll be Blipping soon - I laugh at her, haha! And will, of course, be blipping soon. Music to watch the moon by.

Sometimes, when I'm hunting for Roman legions on lonely haunted tors, or looking for the right towpath to get me out of the Winter Storm, or trying to avoid getting stabbed in north London, I wish I could tell a friend. Now I can go a step further. I can tell all my lovely blog readers.

Wow, this is 21st century reality craziness at its best! I get murdered under full moon and while I'm gasping for my last breath, I send a quick Tweet to Twitter and it appears on my blog, so a million people who don't really know me can sigh and say, "That's a shame - quite enjoyed reading his blog".

This weekend's full-moon walk looks like it's going to take me to Wales. Not sure how - or where, or when. Why? Because there's a man who intrigues me and a story that's led me West. I'm going to update my blog with Tweets, providing I'm not lost on the Brecon Beacons. Ah, I might anyway.

Where's Moon Man?

Wales. Somewhere in Wales.

Moon Man Cometh...again

2009-05-29T23:44:00.004+01:00

Haha, right (again), here's part two of "The Moon Man Cometh". If you'd like to see part one first, click here. If you've seen the first and are ready for the second, watch away below.

Moonwalk number 5 - with David Phillips and the Torbay Investigators of the Paranormal. Here's one of David's favourite little stories...about a man who played a dangerous game with the Devil

Fly, my Carpy, fly!

2009-05-26T19:59:00.007+01:00

In July, I'm going for a spot of moon-fishing with my brother to see whether coarse fishing under full moon yields more or fewer fish than on a new moon. This weekend saw May's new moon, and it just happened that my brother was going fishing at a local lake. So I joined him.

To make the following all the more remarkable, I must reveal my fishing credentials.

Done.

I'm a bad angler, in that I don't catch many fish. I don't catch any fish. In a lake swarming with our scaled friends, I can usually catch twigs, branches, leaves, my fingers and the occasional goose. But never fish. So when, on Sunday, my float shot under the surface and I whipped my rod through the air like a swordsman striking for survival, you can imagine my face when my brother pointed out there was a fish attached (to the hook, not to my face). A real one. A big one. A "clonker", as they say in the trade.

After a mammoth struggle in which Carpy (the carp) tried his best to tangle himself in all manner of sub-marine life, I won. A battle with man's fiercest opponent. Carpy the carp. Sadly I dropped Carpy on his head, and the only proof is a bad picture of him springing into flight.

The photo below shows me and Carpy II (Carpy II was far better behaved).

For July's full moon, I want to see if increased night-time energy (through light reflection off the moon) increases fish metabolism, as theorised by Professor Lieber, the Californian psychologist. He says, in his study of the full moon in The Lunar Effect, that increased metabolism should lead to increased peckishness and therefore more feeding (he seems alone in thinking this). I've set myself a challenge of catching more fish than my brother. The problem is he knows what he's doing, whereas I drop big fish on their faces.

On Sunday he beat me by a mere pound (picture below shows what happens when you hold a fish up to a camera - it looks much bigger!).

But then his fish did return to the lake without concussion, so in the animal-cruelty stakes he's probably ahead.

OK, I suppose I should show Carpy leaping for freedom. Please excuse the enormous grin but for some reason I must have felt the bigger my smile the better Carpy would feel on impact. He was groggy but he survived.

Bring on the rematch!

Apollo 10...40 years ago

2009-05-24T10:02:00.015+01:00

In the Warren House Inn on Dartmoor, conspiracies were a big topic of conversation. And the biggest? Did (hu)Man really walk on the Moon? Of course we’ve all seen the videos and bought the t-shirts, but who believes them? I mean the videos seem pretty conclusive. But the t-shirts!

On May 18 1969, Apollo 10 – the "dress rehearsal for the first manned lunar landing" – launched. Three men - just men - were ready to rocket over 200,000 miles to the Moon to test the waters, for want of a much better phrase.

You start to realise these people are just humans. The men in the suits at Ground Control knew as much as the men in very expensive spacesuits sitting in the big fiery bird. But their dreams, desires, aspirations were super-human.

It’s amazing how reading the Apollo 10 countdown increases my heartbeat. Reading from T-28hrs. Official countdown starts, to T-0 Liftoff brings a flutter to my heart, a shiver to my skin. My year with the Moon helps place me there, in front of my crackling television, family gathered around, all watching, waiting, dreaming about what these men must be going through. Pioneers. Heroes. Lunatics.

Today, 40 years ago, Thomas Stafford (mission commander), John W. Young (Command Module pilot) and Eugene A. Cernan (Lunar Module pilot) began their return to Earth with the "transearth injection", and firing of the service propulsion system (SPS). Then came the 54-hour trip home from behind the Moon, when all three men were alone, completely cut off from Life.

If this, and the subsequent Apollo 11 mission, were a hoax, they were very well planned. Very expensive. Very time-consuming. Hugely clever. Crazily elaborate. In fact, it would have been easier to fly to the Moon than hoax it.

All this information comes from the Apollo 10 press kit, which comes free with the June Sky at Night magazine. In there you see the efforts NASA went to in order to convince the world’s media that a manned Moon mission was worth the money and risk.

You're seeing some excerpts from the kit, which comprises an 8-page press release and Background Information. Which comprises 146 pages of comic-strip-like diagrams, calculations, mathematical conversions, glossary, maps, detailed breakdowns of ships, diets, examination of the processes involved in lunar orbit, and pilot profiles,

Eugene A. Cernan
His hobbies include gardening…

If NASA’s dream to send more humans to the Moon by 2020 comes true, expect to see a few more of these in the newspaper in the next ten years.

Oh, and if you have time for a quick conspiracy, try this one - it's good fun.

Almost new-moon walking

2009-05-20T23:05:00.015+01:00

The sun begins to set over the river. The dusk chorus - the songs, the calls, of blackbirds, sparrows, ducks, swans, geese - echoes over the water. A million midges leave for the air and bite a million times. The light softens, spotlight to haze.

Within half an hour, the birds wish each other good night. The sun slides to the horizon before falling behind the trees. Lights flick on in narrow boats, on fishermen's bite alarms; fire crackles under a bridge where a family cook dinner.

The river becomes a lake and opens to the horizon. Canadian Geese land for the evening - but still have energy to chase each other in circles. Blossom floats on the light breeze and passes through another swarm of dining midges. A couple approach, salute and wander on - homes to go to. An evening stroll.

A little further, a goose bobs along. Lost? Lonely? Happy on the river by himself. He sits on clouds and glides, creating wrinkled ripples.

Now day is saying good night and night is saying good day. Clouds take on pink and peach hues. Two foxes and a deer creep from beside bramble just one hundred yards apart. They stare until scared then dash away - a leap, a dart and gone.

A weir crashes through shadows under a faded sky. Like pastel, colours create layers. A light blue, a slight purple, heavy greens, dirty browns. Birds are still singing - a blackbird gives a final call before silence, as the lake returns to calm.

Three rabbits appear by the picnic tables. They chase and stop and stare and hop. Each a cheeky glance. But a footstep takes them back into the woods, back to their other lives. Soon darkness has taken the sky and the river.

Just the odd light of a fisherman, the glow of a narrow boat, the crash of late-night mallard breaks the scene. I lay on a bench and stare at the night sky. The moonless sky - the waning crescent beyond its nightshift. One, two, ten, one hundred, thousand, million stars sparkle as dots in another world. Tonight, Earth is more than enough.

Dartmoor Moonwalk Video! Part 1...

2009-05-18T18:53:00.005+01:00

Right, here it is. A movie with yours truly in a starring role - filmed by yours truly. The other stars of "The Moon Man Cometh to the Moors - Part 1" are David, Melissa, Anton and Maia. Thanks to all for every bit of help.

Forgive the wind - it didn't realise somtimes when I was filming. Bless.